The Evil That Breeds Within
by Carolyn Carey
Summary: Janeway is struggling to come to terms with the traumatic events of Yesterday's Terrors. She refuses to talk to Chakotay and Starfleet think her a liability. Then a new mission reunites them.
1. The Evil That Breeds Within Prologue

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Disclaimer:  It all belongs to Paramount and I'm just having a little fun with it.

Summary: Sequel to my story "Yesterday's Terrors" which you should really read before you start "The Evil That Breeds Within".

Prologue 

_Approximately 3 months after the events in "Yesterday's Terrors"_

Hunched in the shadows crouched a figure clad from head to toe in black, features obscured by a balaclava, alert obsidian eyes shining like glittering coals in the shadows. He had made it to the very heart of the control center without too much trouble. Certainly, there had been a few close cuts, but altogether this had almost been too easy, and that worried him. The mission was almost accomplished. All he had to do now was tap the access code into the door panel, introduce the virus into the main computer and get out of the Cardassian Military Headquarters without being detected, but then it was a miracle he had come this far, so everything was possible. There was a first time for everything.

Lemok frowned. This was too easy. The whole thing felt wrong, almost as if someone was deliberately granting him access.

_I'm getting paranoid_, he thought, as he entered the access code, given to him by one of the rebel leaders, into the door panel. He braced himself for attack, tensing like a tiger before the jump. He was about to run into the heavily guarded control center - a suicide mission, he knew... but it would be worth it.

Obediently the doorway slid open with the smallest of hydraulic hisses. Lemok stormed into the room, disrupter first, securing the entire chamber even before the door automatically shut behind him.

The control room was deserted. No one was there, not even a skeletal crew. He had expected at least half a dozen guards. There was no movement from any of the eight access doors, not a sound to be heard. Maybe Cardassian Central Command was getting just a little too sure of itself? With newly found confidence he approached the main computer core that dominated the octangular chamber. Its extensive database contained classified information on each and every Cardassian citizen, and then some more. Lemok's task was to introduce a virus into the system that would not only destroy all the stored information, but also disable Central Command's planetary defense and surveillance systems. He removed his balaclava, which had begun to stick to the ridges on his forehead, and began to work.

He had joined the rebels two years ago, after the show trial of his father, the legendary Legate Togal, who had been a member of the Cardassian government for forty odd years, before he was charged with and convicted of treachery. An inconceivable accusation, which had brought dishonor upon his entire family.

Togal, a high-ranking and respected politician, had been as loyal a citizen as the Empire had ever seen. He had conveyed to his son a great love for Cardassia and filled him with pride for his origins.

In typical Cardassian fashion Togal prided himself of his ancestry, regarding all other species as inferior. He reveled in telling stories of great Cardassian military victories of the past, stories of warfare in which Cardassia time and again colonized uncivilized worlds and subdued their respective people, returning home with unspeakable treasures that made a dying economy thrive once again. There was no question. Every living fiber of Legate Togal was dedicated to the Empire.

However during his final years he had more and more felt the need for reform, had advocated a change in the distribution of power between the Detapa Council, the Military and the Obsidian Order. Like many other politicians in the Council he had come to realize that the Military was the only real power in Cardassia. The Empire's democratically elected leaders were nothing more than powerless show-figures -- a pretence of democracy to keep the people happy. In fact the Empire had become a police state in which everyone feared for his or her safety, and no one was certain of their future; a society in which corruption was rife, the black market thrived, neighbor turned against neighbor -- in short, the Cardassian Empire was run by a military dictatorship that ruled with the hand of terror.

Naturally the Military did not care to relent even the smallest part of its power, and so Legate Togal had signed his own death sentence by openly speaking out against its dominant role in the Empire. In the best of Cardassian traditions he was convicted of treason before the trial, which was broadcast to all households throughout Cardassian space. The punishment for treason in Cardassia was death, however, the Nestor, the Cardassian equivalent of a judge, showed mercy of sorts and changed the expected death sentence to life-imprisonment.

Lemok's father had been sentenced to spend the rest of his days in a labor camp on a godforsaken ice planet, far away from home. A few days after the sentence had been carried out, Lemok got news that his father had been killed in an attempt to escape. According to the officials the old man had managed to break out of the high security prison camp and fled into the glacial hills, where, after several hours of hot pursuit by the guards, his body had been torn apart and consumed by Toskanar dogs. There had been too little left of him to justify a funeral ceremony. It was all too much for Lemok's mother who committed suicide by taking poison.

As the memories came flooding back to him, Lemok squared his jaw in silent fury and bit back the tears, which stung his eyes. This was not the time to reminisce - it was time for revenge! With new determination he drew the virus infected computer chip out of the pocket of his jacket and was just moving to insert it into the system when he thought he heard a sound somewhere in the vicinity of one of the access doors. Suddenly all eight doors to the chamber opened and guards stormed through them, disruptor rifles pointed straight at him.

Time froze. Lemok stood anchored to the ground, his heart beating wildly. The sound of an only too familiar voice from somewhere behind him made his heart sink.

"Lemok!"

"Father..." another voice joined the first one. Slowly he turned.

He beheld the sight of his wife and six year old daughter, their faces covered in tears and bruises as they were restrained by military guards, vicious looking disruptors pointed at their temples.

"Ah, Lemok! What a pleasure to see you again! It is unfortunate that the circumstances, which lead our paths to cross, are always unpleasant. First your father's trial, and now your family's execution."

Enabran Tain, who in his capacity as Head of the Obsidian Order had been a key witness in the trial against his father, stepped forward with a malicious smirk. Lemok had recognized the 'officially retired' Tain immediately by the sound of his voice. He remained motionless, his face an unreadable mask. Inwardly he was desperate, his palms moist, the bile rising from his stomach, but he would not give Tain the satisfaction of showing the slightest sign of weakness.

Tain continued with a joviality that seemed entirely out of place, "Of course I would spare your wife and child if you told me who is leading the rebels... such a pretty little girl, and so very bright for her age..."

Tain's coarse hand grated against the little girls cheek.

Lemok was a man torn in half. His loyalty was sworn to the rebels, but his family was his life. He was fully behind the rebels, but at this moment he wished he had never have joined the movement. The guilt he felt over having dragged his family in this danger was threatening to consume his soul. His family and friends were unaware that he had joined the reformist. He could only guess at how confused they must be over what was happening here.

But then, maybe Tain was just bluffing. Would he really kill an innocent woman and child? Even Tain could not be that ruthless... or could he? There was only one way to find out.

Lemok steeled himself and spoke with a confidence in his voice that he did not feel,

"You must think very little of me if you believe that I can be shaken by such idle threats."

Tain shrugged.

"I suppose I thought your love for your family was greater than your loyalty to your fellow renegades, but I see I was in error. A pity..."

Tain gave a brief nod to the guards holding the child and woman. Lemok looked on in terror as the guards fired the weapons that were pointed at their prisoners' heads. During the last few seconds of his existence Lemok felt a pain infinitely worse than any death as he watched his beloved wife and daughter die. Then the pain was gone. Lemok lay in a puddle of his own blood. Lemok's blood mingled with that of his young family where it puddled together in a pool of crimson in the center of the room.

"Someone clean up this mess," Tain bellowed on his way out.

In a small dimmed room in a building nearby Dunar watched in horror as the lifesigns he had been monitoring on the screen of his scanning device vanished. His hands tightened into a fists and made rough impact with his desk. Another good man had just lost his life. He could only hope that Lemok had told them nothing before he died, otherwise the entire underground movement was in jeopardy.

It was time to call in some old favors...


	2. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 1

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 1 

_"20:00 hours, my quarters?"  she asked with a smirk on her face._

_"Yes, Ma'am." Chakotay grinned and left._

They had made love that night, but never again since. The latter had by no means been _their_ choice. No, it had been _hers_. Starfleet had given her an ultimatum. If she wanted to retain her captaincy of the U.S.S. Voyager she had to end her relationship with the renegade Chakotay, nip it in the bud so to speak. And like so many times before in her life she chose her career over her personal life, for without Starfleet Kathryn Janeway was like a fish out of water. It was an integral part of her. Starfleet had shaped her life for as long as she could remember, first through her father, then through the Academy and now directly through Headquarters. She could not part with it anymore than she could stop breathing. It had been with her for too long. Chakotay, on the other hand, had only just entered her life. Surely it could not be that difficult to let him go... or so she told herself.

Six months shore leave... That's what they had lumbered her with. Too much stress, suspected trauma, etc.

"Take it easy for awhile, Kathryn!" She hated the patronizing sound in Admiral Nechayev's voice when she had spoken those words. Starfleet Command had forced her to see half a dozen counselors, all of which had come to the same conclusion: stress. She needed a break. A break ... they had no idea! She was itching to get back into space. Anything was better than this. It was not just that she was bored, but rather that she did not want time to brood over recent events. And she still had three months leave left...

Recent events intermingled with those over a decade old until they became indistinguishable. She had become so desperate for a distraction from the unbidden reflections, which constantly occupied her mind that she had actually asked -- no -- 'begged' for a desk job. Of course they had refused. The truth was that they were loath to trust her with anything right now, and she was very much aware of it. _Unstable_, that was the label she had been given by her superiors. And the worst thing was, they were probably right...

Even Kathryn had begun to doubt her own ability to function since her capture on the asteroid. Failure. She had failed. Failed to remain objective. Failed to remain calm and unbiased. The truth was that her earlier experiences as a prisoner of the Cardassians had instantly made her sympathetic to the Maquis cause, whether she had initially been willing to admit that or not.

To make matters worse she had begun to have feelings for her Maquis captor, a psychological condition which all of her counselors had been quick to diagnose as "Stockholm Syndrome". Amazing, how there was a name for everything out there...

"Stockholm Syndrome," named after the capital of Sweden on Earth, referred to a bonding between captor and hostage. It was first diagnosed in a woman who initially began to sympathize with, and then later developed romantic feelings for the bank robber who was keeping her hostage in the Swedish capital sometime back in the twentieth century. Kathryn Janeway was under strict orders to keep away from Chakotay, for her own sanity's sake, as Nechayev had put it.

"Stockholm Syndrome"... she had laughed at first. Absurd, wasn't it? Why was it so difficult for people to accept that she may actually be in love with this man for no other reason than that she truly liked, respected and desired him? However, as time went by, Kathryn herself was not so certain anymore that her feelings for Chakotay had not simply been a natural psychological response to her situation. A simple chemical reaction induced by fear, a form of survival instinct. After all, she would not be the first hostage to suffer from "Stockholm Syndrome". On top of that she was pretty sure that Starfleet was not going to give her another job unless she kept her distance from Chakotay. And so she had decided to simply forget him. It couldn't be that difficult.

Shore leave. She had spent the first week at home, in her mother's house in Indiana where Kathryn and her sister Phoebe had grown up. Her return there turned out to be a step in the wrong direction. Her sister, with whom she had never really seen eye to eye, had decided to leave her flat in L.A. and help mothering 'poor Kathryn'. Her mother and sister had been so concerned, so caring. Every five minutes they asked if there was something they could do for her. She was never left alone, and even if she went up to her room to brood in peace, Gretchen or Phoebe would intrude into her privacy in no time to see if she was all right and to try to 'cheer her up'. They were suffocating her.

In those days Chakotay contacted her house several times a day via her communications console, asking to speak to her. She refused to answer, ignored his messages, and deleted them mostly without even opening them. Each time it broke her heart, but she told herself that it would soon get easier. Then the messages stopped, and she was surprised to find that the silence was even more painful than ignoring the constant barrage of questions and declarations of affection.

Old friends and neighbors also came by seemingly by the truckloads to see 'poor Kathryn'. She became restless, and in the end she just had to get away. She did not want people's pity and concern. She knew they meant well, but it was driving her crazy. Watching her terminal for hours on end in case there was another message from him was driving her crazy. So she had departed without leaving a forwarding address. The only person who knew where to find her was Nechayev.

Kathryn stood still, taking in the natural beauty of the secluded valley. Soft green hills rose to each site, covered in grasslands, pine trees and heather, except for their granite peaks on which feral goats roamed. Water fell from springs on the mountain peaks, gathering in a stream in the center of the valley. The ground in the immediate area surrounding the stream was soggy, so that her hiking boots left deep imprints in the soil, and the bottom legs of her pants were stained with mud. The gray sky lent the surrounding nature a haunting appeal. Not a soul was to be seen. No houses disturbed the untamed beauty of these wild environs. Closing her eyes, she sucked the cool, fresh October air deeply into her lungs. It helped clear her mind. Soft drizzle caressed her tired features. The bleating of sheep sounded from somewhere nearby, and a dog barked in the distance. Ireland... of all the places to hide she had chosen the Emerald Isle.

She had always wanted to come here since, like so many North American's, she had some Irish roots somewhere in her family tree, but somehow she had never found the time before. Ireland had not changed much throughout the centuries. It was still almost as deserted as it had been five hundred years ago, especially now that the tourist season was over. The landscape here reminded her of her Victorian holonovels. This must have been what Yorkshire had looked like during the Bronteë sisters' lifetime.

The rain was getting stronger, and she pulled her waterproof jacket closer around herself. She had better returned to the cottage before the ground got too slippery. She had rented secluded nineteenth's century brick house with the burgundy painted wooden window frames, shutters and doors for an unlimited period of time. It was roughly five kilometers away from the nearest village and came with a small annex stable which provided the home for the only of transport at her disposal: a brown mare that she had a great time riding through the hills. The landlord had told her about a reliable shuttle rental company in a nearby town, but she had not considered it for a single minute. The idea of flying over the ancient landscapes in a modern shuttlecraft was grotesque. Long walks and rides, cozy nights around the open log fire with a hot toddy, a good read and her dog, an Irish Setter named 'Molly' -- that was what she wanted. And it was exactly how she had been spending her time here.

But the idyll was disturbed by the dreams that returned night after night. Time and again she heard his voice, calling her name, pleading with her to come to him. And each night she would flee from that voice down a long, dark corridor, but the voice was stronger. It followed her, caught up with her, grew louder and louder until she had to hold her ears. But her hands alone could not keep the voice out. It went straight through them. She turned around to look at him, and each time she looked into the pained features of Chakotay. Then the voice would stop. She would take a step towards him and his face would slowly distort into the malignant grimace of Gul Camet. At this point her own screams would shake her out of her restless sleep. Her sheets would be soaked with perspiration, her hair sticking to her neck and shoulders, the nightgown clinging to her skin. She would change the bed linen and nightgown, then take a long real water shower. Sonic showers where still a rarity in the Irish countryside, and she was more than glad about that. After the shower she would sit up in front of the fire and watch the sun slowly rise over the mountains, and sometimes she would be surprised to discover that tears had run down her cheeks without her noticing it.

Kathryn walked through the burgundy painted wooden door that seemed to creak more with every passing day. A tail-wagging Molly jumped up to greet her and almost succeeded in throwing her over. Then Kathryn was startled by a familiar, although long absent beeping sound. It originated from the much neglected computer console on the oak dining table next to the window in the lounge room. She quickly moved towards it and activated the console. It was a message from Starfleet. They were calling her back...

Tuvok sat motionless in the lotus position in the middle of the Vulcan desert. He had gone to _Seleya_, a dark mountain that rose in the heart of the endless sand dunes of the desert, the most sacred site on Vulcan. Decades ago he had taken a pilgrimage here, taking only his ritual belongings and walking all the way there for months. That trip had almost been his death. This time he had taken an easier approach and joined one of the daily transports to the sacred site.

For months now he had spent his time in meditation, getting in touch with his Vulcan roots, so to speak. His captain, Kathryn Janeway, had been suspended from work, and rather than taking a posting with a different captain, he had chosen to follow her example and requested extended shore leave. Starfleet had granted his wish without hesitation. For all they knew he could be going through the _pon farr_. One did not ask questions when a Vulcan requested extended shore leave...

The distant cry of a _sehlat_ startled Tuvok out of his meditative state. He opened his eyes only to see that _T'Kuht_, the Vulcan sun, was already setting on the horizon. It was time to return to shelter. Soon the beasts of the desert would come to hunt for food, and he did not intend to serve as such. He began the climb to the monastery that was situated halfway between the foot and the peak of _Seleya_.

Suddenly the voice of M'Fau, his teacher and mentor, entered his mind. She was conveying a telepathic message.

_Tuvok, hurry! You must leave. Starfleet requires your immediate return to Earth... _

Chakotay's heart sank. There was nothing left but ruins. Trebus, [_according to Jeri Taylor's novel 'Pathways', that's his homeworld_] his once green and populated homeworld was now a deserted, scorched spot in the Demilitarized Zone. The Cardassians had incinerated everything that his people had worked so hard to built here. An entire civilization destroyed. Why he had returned to this dismal and godforsaken place, he could not fathom.

He stood on the burned plain that had once been his village. Nothing was left here but melted rock. His entire family had died here, their bodies vaporized. Apart from some very distant relatives somewhere in South America, Chakotay had no living relations.

After the rather hostile debriefing Starfleet had let him go, fitting him with a tracking device that was embedded under his skin and taking his promise to remain available for a secret mission into Cardassian space at some point in the near future. He was not supposed to leave the planet without permission from Starfleet Command. Chakotay had looked forward to a bit of a break. He had hoped to spend some time with Kathryn, but much to his bewilderment she had completely ignored his messages. She refused to talk to him. Eventually he had gone to her house to put her on the spot and find out what was wrong between them, only to find that she had left a week earlier for an unknown destination. No one seemed to know where she was, although Chakotay was sure that someone in Starfleet had her forwarding address. However, no one in Starfleet Command was about to do him any favors. He had reached a dead end. He just could not understand why Kathryn would not talk to him.

Baffled and hurt he had tried to forget her. First he had sought out some of his old friends from his time in Starfleet, spending several weeks with some. But after more than two months of imposing on various old acquaintances, he had to find somewhere else to go. Uprooted as he was, he decided to search out the remains of his homeworld. After wrestling with a number of Starfleet officials he gained permission to leave the planet on condition that he was to report back to Starfleet Command every 24 hours with details of his whereabouts. He had arrived on Trebus a week ago. Apart from him there were a few science teams examining the effects of the Cardassian energy weapon that was used to incinerate almost the entire planet, and searching for the legacy of the people who had once called this planet their home.

It had been a huge mistake to come here. If he had felt lonely before, he now felt completely forlorn and deserted. Chakotay decided to take the next transport off the planet and return to Earth. He packed the few belongings he had and settled on the ground with his medicine bundle for a final attempt at a vision quest on his homeworld.

The portable long-range communications device Starfleet had equipped him with, so that he would be contactable at all times, beeped...

All dressed up in uniform, the quintessential Starfleet captain, Kathryn Janeway strode down the path towards the main building of Starfleet HQ. It was a truly beautiful day. Cadets from the adjacent Starfleet Academy building had spilled over onto Headquarters' meticulously maintained lawns and flowerbeds, no doubt much to the chagrin of the legendary Boothby. Kathryn smiled a little as she recalled the old gardener who seemed to hold all the wisdom of the Federation.

The sky this morning was of a deep azure, only here and there spotted with tiny white puffs of cottony clouds. The cries of seagulls from the nearby San Francisco bay mixed with the joyful banter and laughter of Starfleet's hopes for the future. The air was alive with sailing birds and cruising small shuttlecrafts that seemed mime them. The bright rays of the sun reflected from the Golden Gate Bridge.

Kathryn's quiet demeanor did not betray the agitation she felt. On the one hand she was glad to be back. After all, she was about to emerge herself in a veritable mountain of work, which was exactly what she had longed to do ever since Voyager's return from her mission in the Badlands.

But she would also have to face Chakotay in only a few minutes. No doubt he would want to know why she had so obviously shunned him. No doubt he was angry with her, or worse -- hurt. Probably a good deal of both. She wanted to crawl back into her sanctuary on the Emerald Isle, but she knew she would have to face reality sooner or later. And her Irish refuge had not turned out to be as uplifting as she had hoped. The dreams had haunted her each night -- dreams of him and of Camet. Maybe it was best for them to meet again. Maybe their renewed encounter would help to drive out some old demons, and some not so very old ones, too. And anyhow, she was not usually in the habit of running away from problems. She preferred to stare them right in the face. If only the fluttering in her stomach would cease...

Footnotes: 

**sehlat:**

A Vulcan predator, indigenous to the desert, resembling a bear with six-inch fangs. Very dangerous when hungry, which they are most of the time since there isn't much food to be found in the Vulcan desert. Can be tamed when caught at a very young age, and some Vulcan's keep them as pets.


	3. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 2

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 2 

The Briefing

Kathryn Janeway had climbed up the stairs to the seventh floor of Starfleet Headquarters rather that taking the elevator. She knew she was stalling for time. When she reached the top of the final step she caught sight of the open door to Nechayev's office at the end of the corridor. The smell of coffee penetrated her nostrils and she smiled. She and Nechayev shared the same fondness for the aromatic beverage. Unfortunately that was where the comparison ended.

As she approached the doorway she heard muffled voices. She soon identified the male one as Tuvok. The female one was Nechayev. She could not hear Chakotay, so he probably had not arrived yet. Kathryn took a deep breath and entered the room.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway reporting for duty, Sir."

"Good Morning, Kathryn. You are almost as early as your Vulcan Security Officer. The meeting is not scheduled to start for another ten minutes. Take a seat."

Nechayev pointed to the row of four chairs in front of her desk. Kathryn chose to sit next to Tuvok.

Next Nechayev handed her a cup of coffee. The Admiral enquired,

"How have you been, Kathryn? Did you enjoy your vacation in Ireland?"

"It was wonderful. Thank you. I feel very much refreshed and eager to get offworld."

Smalltalk... No point in telling Nechayev about the constant nightmares that continued to plague her, and she was not about to let the Admiral know that she was still far from over Chakotay...

Kathryn went on to talk about the beauty of the Emerald Isle, its wild and undisturbed nature, the remoteness of her cottage in the Wicklow Mountains just south of Dublin, and the way those peaceful surroundings had soothed her mind.

She was just taking another sip from her cup when she heard his footsteps approach the Briefing Room. She knew who it was. She would have recognized that walk anywhere. Kathryn concentrated on the cup she held in her hand, trying to suppress the shaking of her hands. She focused on the aroma of the hot beverage, inhaled the rising steam deeply...It always had a calming effect on her.

When he entered the room his gaze locked with hers straight away, as if they were drawn to each other like differently poled magnets. But as quickly as their eyes had met he looked away. It was as if she were hot air to him. His face was a mask of stone. Kathryn felt as if a huge weight had just settled on her chest. It was painful to breathe and her throat began to constrict.

_'Pull yourself together,' she thought. 'This is what you wanted, after all.'_

Nechayev welcomed Chakotay to the meeting and, much to everyone's surprise, explained that one person was still missing. Apparently everyone had expected the group to be complete.

The final member of their party promptly arrived. Nechayev introduced the tall, dark and handsome man as Ross Marlow. He was as a sociologist from Virginia, specializing in Cardassian culture. This description turned out to be a very vague and understated assessment of his expertise. In fact Marlow knew everyone who was anyone in the Cardassian Empire. He had detailed knowledge of classified information that only the most high-ranking officers in the Cardassian Central Command and the Obsidian Order were supposed to know about.

Having spent the past four years as an undercover agent for the Federation on Cardassia Prime, as well as on several Cardassian colonies, he admitted to still having a little trouble reconciling himself with his image in the mirror. Four years ago, when he first joined Starfleet Intelligence he had been genetically altered to appear Cardassian. Experts in Starfleet Medical had changed him back to his former self no more than two days ago.

"It just takes a little time to get used to being me again..." he quipped.

He instantly made her skin crawl. Kathryn Janeway was used to relying on her gut feelings, and right now it told her that there was far more to this man than he or Nechayev were telling. Of course she understood the necessity for undercover agents, but how anyone could live among the Cardassians for such a long time was beyond her. It would take a very special kind of person to live amongst them whilst they brutally enslaved the people of other worlds, put the old and frail -- even children -- into forced labor camps, and cruelly raped helpless women. It made her wonder how well he had played the role of a Cardassian... How far exactly had he gone?

Nechayev officially opened the briefing. Everyone had taken a seat in one of the chairs facing the Admiral's desk in a semi circle. Nechayev folded her hands. She had turned all professional, no more small talk, no more smiles, just plain old frosty Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev, the woman almost everyone in Starfleet loved to hate. Kathryn knew for a fact that Jean-Luc Picard and Admiral Paris, only to mention a couple, despised the woman for she was ruthless and unsympathetic, and as lethal as a Cardassian disruptor if she did not like the look of you. By the way, there were not many people she did like, although she seemed to be rather friendly with Ross Marlow, which did not exactly speak in his favor. Nechayev began,

"I'm sure you all have a fairly good idea for why Starfleet Command has summoned you here today. Let me fill in the details. Five days ago we received an encrypted transmission on a frequency usually only used by our agents. It was an appeal from a man called Dunar, one of the most prominent leaders of the Cardassian underground movement that strives for an end of the military dictatorship. He asked Starfleet to help him. As some of you may recall, in return for services rendered we recently gave our word to assist him, should his life be in jeopardy. He seems to think that the moment has arrived.

"Less than a week ago, the Cardassian underground movement had set into action a plan to destroy the central computer core at Central Command. One of their operatives, who we know to be Lemok Togal, son of the recently deceased Legate Togal, managed to get all the way into the control center before being discovered. The Obsidian Order subsequently executed him, his wife and his six-year-old daughter. We have reason to believe that there is an informant among the rebels, who works for the former head of the Obsidian Order. Enabran Tain, although officially retired from his duties, ordered the executions personally and was present when they were carried out, which by the way was no more than five minutes after Lemok was discovered in the Command Center.

It seems Tain has returned to his duties, although it's probably fair to say that he never really retired from the Order. Now Dunar fears for his safety as well as for that of his family and the rebel movement as a whole. He has requested asylum for the members of his cell and their families. In exchange he is willing to give us highly classified information on planned operations, both by the Cardassian Military and the Order -- information that not even Mr. Marlow managed to get access to in his four years of service on Cardassia Prime.

Nechayev paused, got off her chair and began to pace the room. _'Here it comes...' _Janeway thought warily.

"Now I will inform you of certain matters that might shock you". The Fleet Admiral directed herself at Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok.

"Since the incident in the Badlands three months ago, we have been expecting to send you into Cardassian space in order to help certain members of the underground movement. As you are no doubt aware, the Cardassian Central Command would perceive any interference in their political matters from our side to be a declaration of war. Therefore we had to keep a few things under cover. Starfleet has kept Voyager's return to Earth, after the sudden death of Gul Camet, secret. Official reports state that the Federation distances itself from Voyager's mission into the Badlands because her Captain and crew have sided with the Maquis. In a nutshell, there's a bounty on your heads and a reward for Voyager's recovery. Voyager was a prototype, and naturally all sides have a keen interest in gaining possession of the vessel. I'm sure the Romulans would love to get their hands on it. Be very aware of the danger you face in open space. The entire Galaxy is after you."

Nechayev paused once again, this time scrutinizing the faces of the Vulcan, the woman and the former renegade. What impression had her last words made on them? She could not tell. Their faces were seemingly cast in bronze. Not even their eyes revealed any emotions, a credit to their Starfleet training but not much use to her right now. She continued,

"We have fitted Voyager with an advanced communications scrambler that will enable you to contact us anywhere in Cardassian space without anyone being able to intercept your messages. Furthermore a revolutionary cloaking device has been installed into her systems, as well as into her shuttlecrafts. It will enable you to enter Cardassian space without being discovered. But of course, as with all known cloaking devices, you will not be able to engage in battle while the cloaking device is active.

"You will proceed to Cardassia Prime wearing civilian clothes, the kind the Maquis wear. I'll leave this part of the mission in your capable hands, Mr. Chakotay. In appearance Mr. Marlow will serve as your first officer, Kathryn, but he'll report straight to me, so that I'll at all times be informed of your actions. No offense, Captain, but recent events still categorize you as -- how shall I put it -- ...a liability."

_'Ouch!'_ thought Chakotay, trying not to wince. If Nechayev were any less than a Starfleet Admiral Kathryn would scratch her eyes out for that. Facing Janeway, Nechayev continued,

"Starfleet Command is not willing to take any risks with this mission. They would not even have considered you for the captaincy in this case were it not for the fact that Voyager is now supposed to be a renegade ship, and you her captain."

Kathryn Janeway's face was unreadable except for the blazing fury that now burned in her eyes. To be insulted like this in front of her ex-lover, her tactical officer, and a complete stranger... It was insufferable. Somehow she managed to control her temper.

Nechayev now began to address the mission itself. They were to proceed to Cardassia Prime, take a cloaked shuttle into the capital and rendezvous with the rebels. Once they had located Dunar's cell, they were to begin transporting them and their families aboard the cloaked Voyager, using either cloaked shuttles or transporters, whatever was most appropriate at the time. Then they were to inform Starfleet Headquarters of the success of their mission. Starfleet would send them the coordinates of a secret location from which the Cardassian rebels were to be scattered all over Federation space. The mission was straight forward, although not easy. Its success relied to a very large extent on the new cloaking technology, which had not yet been field-tested. Kathryn didn't like the sound of it, nor did she like the fact that her entire crew was up for grabs for anyone who wanted to cash in on the bounty. It was beyond her comprehension how Starfleet could so scrupulously decide over the lives of people. They had not even asked...

As for Marlow, she liked him even less now than at the beginning of the meeting. The man was going to be chaperoning her throughout the duration of the mission. No one had ever called Kathryn Janeway a 'liability' before. She felt her face flush with heat just thinking about the insult.

Nechayev went into the tactical details of the new cloaking technology, explained the dangers that Voyager might come across in Cardassian space, from minefields and other booby traps to naturally occurring anomalies in the region they were going to. Then, ordering them to finish their final preparations, she let them go. They were to rendezvous in the main transporter room at Starfleet Headquarters at 20:00 hours. Messages had been sent to Voyager's Starfleet crew and the members of Chakotay's Maquis cell.

"Dismissed!" she barked at the end of her speech.

Without uttering another word everyone went their separate ways.


	4. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 3

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 3 

For Kathryn Janeway the trouble with pre-launch preparations was that there was never really anything left to prepare. So she had spent the entire afternoon pacing her apartment, which overlooked the San Francisco bay. Her bags had already been packed hours before the briefing at HQ that morning. Starfleet officers, especially captains, were accustomed to being called to duty at a moment's notice. With way too much time on her hands, she had attempted to distract herself with a little music. But even Tchaikovsky had failed to raise her spirits. She had picked up a padd with a gothic novel that she had not read yet, only to catch herself staring at the text without really taking in any of it. Her mind kept wandering back to the morning's briefing. Eventually she had tossed the padd aside and picked up another one. It had soon followed the first one. Exasperated she had finally given up on reading and resorted to pacing again, staring out of the window but not really seeing anything. Instead her eyes were focusing inwards on the turmoil within her. The beautiful view of the bay, which had been a decisive factor in choosing her apartment, held no beauty for her today. She might as well have been looking out onto a brick wall. Unsuccessfully she had tried to focus her thoughts on the upcoming mission, but they kept straying to Nechayev and Chakotay, two people she longed to wipe from her memory. At least she would have been able to sleep then.

Usually when she felt like this she would take her dog for a long walk across the bay, but that had not been an option either. She had already deposited Molly at her mother's house in Indiana. However, there had been plenty of time for brooding...

Starfleet Command had thrown one insult after another at her, and she was keenly aware of it. She knew that Marlow was no more than an extravagant babysitter, a watchdog, assigned to this mission to keep an eye on her, reporting everything -- every word she said, every order she gave, every move she made -- straight to Starfleet Command. They did not trust her anymore. What had Nechayev called her again? A liability! She could not remember a time when she had felt so completely and utterly patronized, degraded and humiliated. It was one thing for Nechayev to tell her in confidence that Starfleet command was having trouble trusting her. But to dress her down like that in front of one of her officers -- a Vulcan at that -- a perfect stranger and a renegade who was wanted by the Cardassian and the Federation authorities for his terrorist actions in the DMZ! It was too much. How did Nechayev expect her to gain her crew's respect now? Oh, she was well aware that no love had ever been lost between herself and Admiral Nechayev, but this was taking their mutual dislike one step too far.

In frustration Janeway bit her lip and balled her hands into tight fists. She wanted to throw something, hit something, anything to get the pent up aggression out of her system, but she could not. She had to rise above such things. She could not just throw a tantrum. She simply expected more from herself. It was important for her to get in control of her feelings; otherwise she was never going to cope on Voyager. After all, how could she expect to control others if she could not even control herself?

As if she did not already have enough on her plate, there was of course the matter with Chakotay. He had completely ignored her this morning, and it ruffled her. Somehow she had expected something else... a stronger reaction on his part. She had been prepared for a shouting match, or at least a small argument. She had been ready for that, but this total silence was something she found very hard to deal with. She wanted to clear the air between them, but how did you do that with someone who treats you like hot air? How do you have an argument with a statue?

When their eyes had met for the briefest of moments, she had felt the strangest sensations. Her heart had been racing, and she had felt the blood rise to her head. There had been a fleeting flash of emotion in his eyes. But what kind of emotion? Hostility? Certainly. Hurt, maybe. Love -- definitely not. Or had that flicker of a fire been more than just hostility?

**_No. Wishful thinking, Kathryn!_** she thought dejectedly.

Even if there had been the slightest smolder of love, what would she do with it? Had she not avoided him for the past three months, because there could be no such relationship between them? Had she not gone to extreme lengths to forget about how good it felt to lose herself in his strong arms, to feel his lips on hers?

**_No, don't go there, Kathryn! _**

She had to focus on something else, anything but those memories.

  
Marlow! Expert on all things Cardassian... that thought alone made her shudder. Would she be able to work with him? Nechayev had basically given command of the ship over to him. Sure, she was still the Captain, but he was the one with the real power behind the captain's chair. It was ridiculous. Marlow was Starfleet Intelligence material, not a starship captain trained in the art of space combat. His diploma was in sociology, not strategy. It was absurd to have him in charge of Voyager in a possible battle situation.

To round matters up, Kathryn Janeway, outstanding cadet, protégé of the revered and much feared Admiral Paris, quick mover through the ranks of Starfleet and firm believer in the Prime Directive had just become one of the galaxy's most hunted criminals, together with her crew. The latter was nagging at her conscience. She had dragged her crew into this! It was her job to protect them, not incriminate them.

And then, of course, there was the fact that she was just about to launch herself into her favorite part of the galaxy: Cardassian space! She would rather have engaged the Borg -- single-handedly! At least they were automatons, unaware of the horror they inflicted on their victims. The Cardassians actually enjoyed torturing theirs.

Finally the chronometer took mercy on Kathryn Janeway. It was 19:30 hours -- time to go. The weather had decided to match her mood. It had already turned dark and a persistent drizzle saturated the chilly October evening air.

Kathryn left her San Francisco apartment and walked along the bay through the Academy grounds to Headquarters, a stroll that took her no longer than ten minutes. When she arrived in the Academy's transporter room most of the crew were already assembled, all wearing Starfleet uniforms, including the Maquis. It would have been too auspicious to have civilians roam the hallowed halls of Starfleet Headquarters. They were all going to change into Maquis clothing once they were aboard Voyager.

Her entrance had gone unnoticed. The crew was too busy renewing acquaintances to notice her. Janeway took the opportunity to cast her gaze across the crowd, isolating a few familiar faces. Tom Paris was there, looking his usual cocky self and animatedly chatting with the Maquis engineer B'Elanna Torres. Paris was going to pilot the ship. Lieutenant Stadi, Voyager's official helm officer, was on official leave due to a recent death in her family. She had taken a trip to Betazed in order to attend the funeral of her father. Janeway had a special affinity for Stadi and was going to miss her resident Betazoid on this journey.

Ensign Harry Kim stood alone at the far end of the room, obviously uncertain as to what to do with himself, shifting his weight from one leg onto the other and fidgeting with his baggage.

Finally she located Tuvok, her old friend and probably the only one she could really trust on this mission. He stood solemnly next to a large window, gazing out with no readable emotions on his face. Would he still be willing to accept her captaincy after what Nechayev had said this morning? As a Vulcan he had very little trust in humans. He saw their conflicting emotions as a liability. What impression had Nechayev's assessment of her psychological state made on him? Well, she was not going to get any answers by staring at his stoic face. She would have to ask him directly if she wanted to know what he thought of her. But that could wait until later, because Janeway was not entirely sure she was ready to hear the answer to this particular question.

Kathryn continued to observe the group assembled in the transporter room. She spotted some familiar faces among the Maquis, too. There was Kurt Bendera, Chakotay's loyal friend, a man without whose guidance some of her people might never have made it back to Earth alive, including herself. And that quiet, yet nosy Bajoran man, Lojal, was standing in the corner by the industrial sized transporter platform. She remembered him from subterranean Maquis hideout. He was the one who had brought the spare blankets and cushions to Chakotay's room, where she was supposed to spend the night on the couch...

Speak of the devil, Chakotay entered the room. She could not help but notice that he looked quite fetching in his command uniform. She had never seen him in Starfleet regulation clothing before, apart from the picture in his personnel file. Immediately the members of his cell gathered around him, smiling and welcoming him warmly into their midst.

She had to admit, she was a little jealous of the open and affectionate relationship Chakotay had with the members of his cell. She could never allow such familiarity to establish between herself and her crew. Kathryn caught herself staring at the Maquis leader in a way that went far beyond the professional and quickly averted her eyes, pretending to be busy reading one of the padds she had collected from her office. **_Damn_**... for a moment she had let her guard down. She only hoped no one had noticed, although to her the signs were terribly obvious. She was breathing rapidly, and her blood was pounding in her ears...

"Good evening, Captain. It's good to see you again. I had wanted to discuss a few matters after this morning's briefing, but you had already gone before I could ask you out for lunch."

It was Ross Marlow, her _expert on all things Cardassian_. She only hoped he had not noticed her lapse of self-control. Undoubtedly Nechayev had informed him in great detail of her 'relationship' with Chakotay during Voyager's last mission.

Rather frostily she responded,

"I had a lot to prepare."

Marlow was actually giving her a warm smile. It made her skin crawl. She chided herself. She should not allow herself to be so prejudiced. After all, she did not even know the man. So what if Nechayev liked him, that did not necessarily make him into an ogre... or did it?

"Maybe we can have some coffee once we're safely on our way?" he suggested, still that same smile on his face. His green eyes were shining brightly. They suited him with his almost black hair. That smile of his almost softened her resolve to hate this man. Under different circumstances she might have found him handsome.

Kathryn pulled herself together. She should really make an effort to get along with Marlow. She already had one tense relationship with Chakotay aboard Voyager. There was no need for another. After all, she would have to work with Ross Marlow. And besides, she had always found it difficult to say no to coffee.

Kathryn forced a smile.

"All right, Mr. Marlow. If everything goes well, I'll meet you in the mess hall at 22:00 hours."

**_There, that should keep him happy_**, she though, but much to her surprise Marlow protested.

"22:00 is great, Captain, but I had rather hoped for more private surroundings. I intend to discuss certain classified matters with you concerning this mission..."

Janeway sighed and her shoulders slumped infinitesimally.

"Fine. 22:00 hours, my quarters. Please excuse me now, Mr. Marlow. I have just spotted my tactical officer. I really must speak with him before we leave orbit."

She was just about to make her escape when Nechayev entered the room.

Nechayev addressed the assembled group and gave her 'farewell speech', wishing Janeway and her crew good luck and, having received a small ovation from the crew, watched them beam onto the vessel in groups of twenty. This was one of those moments when being in command came in handy, since it meant that Janeway could beam aboard with the first group. The sooner she could get away from Nechayev, the better!

Kathryn Janeway proceeded straight to her quarters in order to deposit her bag and to change into the Maquis clothes, whose design Nechayev had left _"in Chakotay's capable hands"_. She only hoped he had not incorporated an act of revenge into the her attire...

Voyager's captain was relieved to find a wardrobe full of simple leggings and tunics in various neutral colors. Having changed into one of the outfits she left for the bridge.

Most of the bridge crew, similarly attired to her, was already at their stations. Tom Paris was at the helm, Harry Kim behind the operations console and Tuvok at tactical. Ensign Wildman sat at the science station. B'Elanna Torres, Lieutenant Carey and the rest of Voyager's new engineering team, a motley crew of Starfleet officers and Maquis resistance fighters, were already hard at work in main engineering.

Chakotay sat gloomily to her left in the late Commander Cavit's chair and did his best to ignore her presence. Janeway did not have to be a telepath to feel his hostility towards her. She longed to talk to him, but they could hardly have things out on the bridge, in front of the crew. She would summon him to her ready room, once they were en route to Cardassia. For now she would simply have to live with the sizzling tension in the air.

To make matters worse, a special seat had been fitted to her right, now occupied by Ross Marlow, who was just beginning to lean over to engage her in conversation.

Janeway stiffened. Before Marlow had a chance to involve her in another round of small talk she began the departure procedures.

"Ensign Kim, status report!"

The new cloaking device put great strain on Voyager's systems, but it was an amazing piece of technology all the same. All day the NCC - 74656 had been orbiting Earth, invisible to even the most sophisticated sensors. Currently all systems were functioning within acceptable parameters.

"All right, people. You know what we're here for. Lets do it. Mr. Paris, lay in a course for Cardassia Prime, Warp 6. Engage!"

A brief flash of light was all that was visible of the cloaked vessel as it leapt into warp.

Janeway took inventory of her bridge crew. Trying to lighten the mood a little she quipped,

"Mr. Chakotay, you did great job with the clothes. I think you missed your calling as a tailor."

As soon as the words had left her lips they felt wrong. It was the first thing she had said to him for three months. Seeing the storm brew on his forehead she knew she had made a mistake.

"Whatever you say, Ma'am. I'm glad I'm good for something," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

A few crewmembers, who had overheard the exchange, looked up briefly, their eyes full of questions.

Oh, this was never going to work! Kathryn Janeway jumped out of her chair, fury burning in her eyes.

"In my ready room, Mr. Chakotay! Now!"

She stormed ahead, the sound of his footsteps falling in behind her.

The hydraulic doors slid shut behind them. Janeway, quickly standing behind her desk, glared at him with barely controlled rage.

"How dare you! How dare you make a scene in front of my crew?" she exclaimed.

Chakotay took a few steps towards her. There certainly was no remorse in his posture.

"How dare I? If you wouldn't mind telling me, Kathryn, why the hell you haven't spoken to me since our return to Earth, then I'd be happy to answer that question!" he shouted.

Kathryn brushed his comment aside.

"Oh, this is insufferable, Chakotay! I expected so much more from you. How are we supposed to work together if you can't at least maintain a professional demeanor?"

"You haven't answered my question yet, Kathryn. Why didn't you reply to my messages? Why did you just disappear like that? After all we'd been through together, I would have thought I'd deserve a little more..."

Hidden behind the anger and bitterness she could hear the pain in his voice. This realization was sobering enough for her rage to turn into guilt. What had she done? He had every right to be angry with her. What had she been thinking? How could she have been so goddamn egotistical? She should have told him three months ago that they could never be anymore than brief acquaintances. At least he deserved an explanation...

"If you have nothing more to say, Captain, then I'll get back to the bridge," he said and turned to walk through the door.

A brief surge of panic went through her. She had to clear the air between them now; otherwise the entire mission would be in jeopardy. It was essential to its success that they were able to work together.

"Chakotay, wait," she exclaimed a little too fast.

He stopped. Janeway sank into her seat.

"Please, have a seat, and I'll explain."

He sat down in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. She could see that he was still fuming. This was not going to be easy... Softly, so as to spare him any more pain, she hesitantly began,

"When we..."

She swallowed, looked down at her hands and then looking him straight in the eyes started again.

"Chakotay, there can never be anything more than a professional relationship between us. Whatever attraction we might have felt at the time when we made love, it was a reaction to the circumstances. If we hadn't met under a barrage of Cardassian torpedoes, do you really think we would have ended up together? I doubt it. Our world's are too different..."

He interrupted her.

"The last time I checked we were living in exactly the same world, in precisely the same timeline, Kathryn."

He was deliberately twisting her words. She hardened once more,

"You know exactly what I mean, Chakotay. I'm a Starfleet captain and you're a Maquis renegade. We stand on opposite sides of the law. We have totally opposing principles..."

He cut her off with a movement of his hand,

"Nonsense, Kathryn! That wasn't the impression I got when we were on the asteroid. If I remember correctly, we did indeed start out on different sides, until you realized that we'd been on the same side all along. Don't you remember how terrified you were when Gul Camet and his troops came to hunt you down like an animal, when you realized that the Cardassians had no intention of honoring that goddamn sham of a treaty? And what about those laws you're talking about? Have you forgotten that it was **_you_** who killed Camet? According to Federation law its a crime to kill an ally, Kathryn, and according to that so called "treaty" that's exactly who Camet was. Starfleet and the Federation don't care that Camet was going to have your head turned into a wall mountable trophy. They only care about the fact that stabbed him. And isn't that exactly why they are trying to distance themselves from Voyager, from her captain and from her crew? Take a good look at yourself, Kathryn. You and I, the Maquis and your crew -- we're all on the same side of the law! Don't you ever forget that!"

She had allowed him to vent his anger. There was no point in interrupting him. They would never come to an agreement that way.

Frostily, fighting back the tears that were gathering in her eyes at the cruel memories he had invoked, she replied,

"I haven't forgotten a thing, Chakotay. I wish I could forget. I wish all of it had never happened, but it has. And now I have to live with it. Lets face it, Chakotay, our friendship, or whatever you want to call it, was born under the attack of three Cardassian warships. It's a cliché! The old adage all over again: _The enemy of my enemy is my friend_. I admit that I allowed myself to get carried away for a while. But take look at the conditions! I was a hostage. My life was in danger, and from more than one side. Psychology has a name for it: Stockholm Syndrome. It all comes down to a basic survival instinct that kicks in during hostage situations and the likes. On top of that we both thought we weren't going to make it out of that asteroid alive, so we clung to each other. We were surrounded by hostile forces, falling rocks, debris, fire, ... All that adrenalin made us react the way we did. There's nothing more to it."

There was a silence between them, then he said,

"I see. Then why didn't you tell me all this three months ago, Kathryn?"

When no answer was forthcoming he continued,

"I'll tell you why! You didn't believe it yourself, that's why. Stockholm syndrome! It's ridiculous. You know I would never have harmed you. I did everything to protect you from Camet and his troops! On one occasion I even gave myself to them to gain some time for you to escape. Some counselor probably spoon-fed you all this psychoanalytical garbage. Then some admiral, and I'll bet ten to one that it was Nechayev, dropped a hint that you'd better not get involved with a Maquis, or your precious Starfleet career might just go flying out of the window. You couldn't trust yourself to talk to me, so you ran away in order to convince yourself of all that rubbish they fed you in the counseling sessions."

His harsh words wounded her deeply, but she could not allow him see how much of an effect her was having on her. The captain's mask firmly in place she straightened and said,

"Believe whatever version makes you happier, Chakotay. Lets just get right down to the basics, shall we? We have an important mission to accomplish. A lot of lives are on the line. If we can't find a way to work together, this mission is going to fail. People are going to die. I won't stand for that. And I refuse to believe that you would jeopardize the lives of your people because of our personal problems. For their sake if not for yourself, lets try to make this work."

It was difficult to remain angry when she was being so goddamn professional about the whole thing. Chakotay jumped out of the chair and began to agitatedly pace the room. He wanted to slap some sense into her.

"Chakotay..." she began hesitantly, suddenly not sounding all that sure of herself anymore.

He turned to face her. He was still furious with her, but she had a point. There was no time for things to get personal now. Too many lives were on the line -- lives he happened to care a lot about.

"All right, Kathryn. For the duration of this mission I'm willing to put our differences aside. But this discussion isn't over yet."

With those words he stormed out of the ready room and back onto the bridge.

Drained of all her energy Janeway dropped her head into her hands and allowed the tears she had held back to silently spill from her eyes. The argument with Chakotay had worn her out. His hurtful words repeated in her head time and again. Did he have a point? Had she indeed only been fooling herself? Was she after all in love with him?

She was so tired, but it did not look like she was going to get much sleep tonight. Her head was spinning. Feeling so much older than her years, she brushed her tears from her cheeks, pushed herself out of her chair and replicated some coffee. Every movement was an effort. Maybe the coffee would help. She was too tired to pace the room, so she stepped onto the upper level of her ready room, sank into the couch under the viewport, holding the mug of coffee with both hands, as if it were her anchor. A pleasant warmth spread from her fingers to the rest of her body lulling her into slumber. She allowed herself to lean back and closed her eyes.

She was just about to dose off when her combadge chirped. It was Marlow reminding her of their meeting in her quarters at 22:00 hours. She glanced at the chronometer on her desk. She had less than twenty minutes to herself...

When she arrived at her quarters Marlow was already standing at the door, a couple of padds in hand. Janeway sighed inwardly. She had hoped to have a couple of minutes to unpack before the meeting. Her bags still lay untouched where she had discarded them on her bed, and it was getting late.

She offered him a seat on one of the command red upholstered armchairs in her lounge, replicated some coffee for both of them and took a seat on the couch opposite him. She had no patience for small talk, so she got straight to the point.

"So, what is it that you wanted to discuss, Mr. Marlow?" she asked.

Marlow adjusted a cushion on the armchair, making himself more comfortable. He was obviously intending to stay for a while...

"Please, call me Ross. May I call you Kathryn? Putting away with the formalities makes things so much easier, don't you think?"

Janeway inwardly winced. She had no intention of getting informal with Marlow, but what was she supposed to tell him?

_'I'm sorry, Mr. Marlow, but I just don't like you, so you will continue to address me as "Captain Janeway"?'_

Hardly... So she went along with it.

"I was hoping you could help me to develop a plan of action, Kathryn."

"I was hoping you already had one," she replied wryly.

Marlow did not seem to notice the sarcastic undertones in her voice. He sighed and continued,

"I wish I did. It pretty much depends on the conditions we find when we get there. How much do you know about Cardassia Prime?"

She admitted she did not have much knowledge about the planet's defenses. Marlow filled her in.

The planet was surrounded by an extremely efficient orbital defense perimeter that would destroy even the smallest particle of dust that came within its targeting range, unless a clearance code was transmitted from the approaching vessel to the perimeter. Three hundred weapons platforms, each armed with one thousand plasma torpedoes, were an incredible force to reckon with. The clearance codes were unique, so attempting to fake one was out of the question.

Firing on the platforms in an attempt to destroy them was not only implausible because of their sheer number, but also because each platform was surrounded by a regenerative force field, making them immune to weapons fire.

Powerful as they might be, the defense perimeter had a weakness. It lay in its central power source. With the use of her main deflector dish, Voyager could imprint a false signature on the central power source, which was located planetside, in the basement of Central Command. The platforms would read their own power source as an enemy and subsequently destroy it. Once the main power source had been taken out, the platforms would deactivate themselves.

This strategy was useful where surveillance systems were relatively remote. But in the immediate proximity Cardassia Prime it was impossible to pull off such a stunt without being discovered. The Obsidian Order and the Military would pick up the deflector array's energy emissions in no time. Also, in order to use her deflector dish in such a way, Voyager would have to come out of cloak. Otherwise there would not be sufficient energy left over for the deflector to operate. In a nutshell, tempering with the defense perimeter was a bad idea.

Marlow explained that Voyager's main advantage was her cloaking ability. To his knowledge, the defense perimeter's sensors were unable to read cloaked ships. As long as Voyager was able to hide behind the cloaking device she was safe and could literally land on the planet without anyone noticing.

Janeway, however, did not like the odds much. The cloaking device used up a lot of energy. Should Voyager have to make use of her phaser banks or torpedoes, she would have to decloak. There just was not enough energy to operate both weapons and cloak at the same time. Even using the transporters was risky while the ship was cloaked. Fluctuations due to the constant high-energy drain made it extremely difficult to keep patterns stable.

Janeway suggested hiding Voyager in a nearby nebula or behind a moon, and only sending one or two cloaked shuttles to the planet, since Voyager's shuttles had also been fitted with the device. But according to Marlow the energy reserves of a shuttlecraft were insufficient for it to remain cloaked over longer periods. The warp engines of a small craft simply were too small to hold the amount of energy required cloaking. The transporters would be the best way to get to the planet if they wanted to avoid discovery.

Janeway relented, albeit reluctantly. It was obvious that Marlow was far more interested in the accomplishment of the mission than in the safety of her crew. Janeway despised his approach, but since he was the expert on Cardassia, and ultimately the one in charge, she was willing to give his plan a shot. However, she was determined to come up with plan B.

Voyager's E.T.A. at Cardassia Prime was at 6:00 hours, less than eight hours from now. Once there, they would wait for a message from Dunar. He would contact them on a subspace frequency so low in widthband that it was impossible to track without knowing its exact configuration. The message would contain the rendezvous coordinates.

A small away team was to beam down to those coordinates, wearing the black cloaks of Delphidian monks. This way they would not be unnecessarily spoken to by anyone since the members of the relevant religious order on Delphi Argu were infamously reclusive. The cloaks would also serve to hide their identities -- up to a point.

It suddenly struck Janeway.

"Why didn't Starfleet consider changing some of us surgically to appear Cardassian? And why did they change you back? I would have thought your former Cardassian appearance would have given you an edge for this mission. Aren't Cardassians immediately suspicious of aliens?"

It seemed Marlow had an answer to everything.

"Don't forget, we are supposed to have fallen into disgrace with Starfleet and the Federation. Voyager is officially a Maquis vessel. How would the Maquis find a surgeon who'd be willing to perform that kind of surgery? And even if they did managed to find someone corrupt enough to do it, they couldn't afford the price he'd ask for."

It made sense, but she had the odd feeling that something was wrong. Marlow was hiding something... They continued to talk about the composition of the away team. Janeway wanted to take Chakotay, Tuvok, Kim and Marlow. Marlow protested against taking the Vulcan, since he was the only senior bridge officer on Voyager except for Janeway, but she insisted. Tuvok was her security chief. He also knew how to keep a clear head in the presence of danger. He had proven himself invaluable on away missions on countless occasions. Also, he was the only person aboard Voyager she trusted right now. She would be a fool not to take him with her. She was not going to change her mind in this case.

Once they were planetside, they would locate the Cardassian dissidents and their families, and then, one by one, have them beamed aboard Voyager, having fitted them with pattern enhancers to counteract the energy fluctuations. The away team would beam back last. Once everyone was onboard, Voyager was to lay in a course for some secret coordinates that Starfleet was going to provide in a highly encrypted subspace message.

Janeway and Marlow went through a couple of strategic maneuvers, on the off-chance that Voyager might find herself in hostile pursuit. It was getting late, past midnight. Janeway stifled a yawn.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Captain. I had no idea it was this late. Please accept my sincere apologies for keeping you up this late. We've discussed everything I wanted to discuss, anyhow. I was just enjoying the company. I'll see you tomorrow morning," Marlow excused himself.

Janeway was more than happy to see the back of him. He was just about to walk out of the door, when he turned back one last time.

"May I meet you for breakfast in the mess hall?"

The man was a pest! Still, she knew how to get herself out of this one.

"I don't think I'll be having breakfast in the morning, Mr. Marlow. There's simply too much to do."

But Marlow was not easy to get rid off.

"Captain, I would seriously advise you to have a good breakfast in the morning. You don't know when you'll get the chance to eat again. We may get stuck planetside. Why don't we meet at 5:00? I'll have to make sure that the captain leading this important mission is keeping up her strength," he said.

The smile he gave her would have been disarming if he were not so damn insufferable.

"I'll have something to eat in my quarters. Going to the mess hall will take too much time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd really like to get some sleep. It's been a long day."

When she was finally alone, she quickly unpacked her bags, took a sonic shower -- she was too tired to indulge in a bath, which she usually preferred -- and went to bed. But Kathryn Janeway was restless. It was always like this before a dangerous mission, and the confrontation with Chakotay did nothing to calm her nerves.

She disliked the plan of action Marlow had come up with. It was too dangerous. The way he had planned things, the slightest change in a single variable would mean disaster. Having tossed and turned for almost an hour, she gave up on sleep, donned a robe and went into the lounge to replicate some more coffee. She had to come up with plan B...

Her doorbell sounded. Who would pay her a visit at such a late hour? She sincerely hoped it was not Marlow.

"Come in!" she called warily.

The doors slid open, and Chakotay stepped into her quarters. He was still fully dressed. It seemed that she was not the only one who had trouble sleeping tonight.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I have to speak to you about tomorrow. The safety of my people is involved. I need to know what you're planning." he said heatedly.

Despite their differences and the overt hostility in his voice, Kathryn was almost glad that he had come. She needed to talk to a third party. She had meant to consult Tuvok, but now that Chakotay was here she might as well ask his opinion. Maquis or not, he was no fool. What did Chakotay think of Marlow and his plan? She told him to help himself to the replicator and began to unravel the details of Marlow's strategy. As it turned out she was not the only one who mistrusted Nechayev's expert. Chakotay disapproved of his plan as much as she did. Kathryn felt a little relieved. Now she did not have to carry the entire burden of this mission on her shoulders. Together they would come up with an alternative.

Surely they could send a cloaked shuttle to the surface. Kathryn was determined not to use the transporters under the current treacherous conditions. Chakotay suggested consulting B'Elanna about the possibility of improving the shuttle's energy output. Knowing full well that Torres was an extraordinarily talented engineer -- some of the things she had done to the Maquis base on the asteroid were revolutionary and simply amazing -- Kathryn agreed but insisted on Carey being brought into the discussion as well. After all, he was Voyager's chief engineer. She did not want any bad blood between her Starfleet crew and Chakotay's Maquis. This mission had plenty of problems as it was. Minutes later, Carey, a rather grouchy half-Klingon and a small group of Voyager's top engineers quietly made their way to the shuttle bay.

As the night went on, Kathryn and Chakotay became more relaxed, and the tone between them less strained, although it remained distantly polite. They helped themselves to several cups of coffee whilst searching Voyager's extensive database for information about Cardassia Prime's orbital defense systems. Much to their surprise, there was no information whatsoever on Cardassia Prime or its surrounding colonies. Someone must have tempered with the files... It was an odd, to say the least.

After awhile Carey contacted them to let them know that the shuttle's energy output could be adjusted so that its reserves were being used more efficiently, thus leaving more for the cloaking device. Janeway gave orders to proceed.

At 03:00 hours, with the engineering team still full at work in the shuttle bay, Voyager's captain and the Maquis leader called it a night.

"I'll see you in two hours in the conference room." she said, rubbing her stiff neck. Her shoulders, neck and temples had been throbbing for hours. It had been a tough day.

Chakotay noticed her discomfort. He had a sudden urge to rush over to her and massage those strained muscles, but he caught himself. She would not welcome it, and he did not want to start another argument so shortly before crunch time. He turned and walked out of the door.

Kathryn Janeway crawled back to bed, feeling a little more at peace with herself now that plan B had been initiated. And she was going to make sure that Marlow did not get any wind of it. She had two hours before the start of the final briefing. She might as well try to catch some sleep...

In his quarters, Ross Marlow was still up and about. He had been busy preparing for the next day. Now he activated the small personal console that stood atop his desk under a viewport. He entered a message.

**_To Admiral A. Nechayev_**

**_Classified _**

**_Security Clearance Level 10 required_**

_Time: 03:00 hours _

_Admiral,_

_Everything going according to plan. No one suspecting anything, however, get the feeling Janeway does not trust me. Might have to terminate her earlier than planned, should she try to stand in our way. Will contact you again when mission carried out._

_R.M. _


	5. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 4

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 4 

A beautiful red sunset brushed a golden sheen over the intricately arched rooftops of Cardassia Prime, casting long shadows across the world below. The streets were abuzz with people, although the variety of species was monotonous to say the least. Variety on this planet indeed left a lot to be desired. As far as the eye could see there were no aliens, only Cardassians -- a testament to their inherent xenophobic tendencies.

The scenery was almost peaceful. Large screens displayed pictures of the most beautiful regions of the planet and enormous speakers droned patriotic sermons into the minds of passers-by. Crowds had gathered in front of certain screens that were showing life transmissions of show trials. Cardassians were proud of the fact that every criminal was punished on their world. No one ever stopped to think that some of the punished ones might be innocent. After all, if the criminal justice system was taking you to Court, then you had to have committed a substantial crime....

It was that time of day when children were running home from school. The market traders were closing down their stalls after what had hopefully been a lucrative day, and the aroma of home cooking filled the air. It was almost time for dinner. The overhead trains of the capital's public transport system were bursting with commuters who were eager to get home after another day's work. Most Cardassians worked in the capital or one of the other cities and lived in the suburbs. Cardassia was a planet drained of its natural resources, so foods came either replicated, imported from other planets or grown in specially designed airponic environments on the borders of the cities.

Rural regions had been deserted for nearly a millennium, when it had become apparent that the soil had been robbed of most of its nutrients, which was due to extensive mining in the planet's past. There were no jobs in the countryside, and nothing would grow in the dead soil of Cardassia Prime. Thus in order to survive people needed to find work in urban areas, or else move to one of the more fruitful colonies in neighboring sectors. However, Cardassians were passionately patriotic, and not many were willing to abandon their homeworld, no matter what promises the vastness of space held for them.

Far away from the warm, golden glow of the sun and the appetizing aromas of Cardassian cuisine, deep down in the catacombs of the capital's sewerage system, there was another way of life entirely. The sewers were black, dank and slippery with lichen. Various forms of mould and mildew that had nestled between ancient bricks. The system had not been renewed for eight centuries. The putrid water in the sewers was knee-high at the best of times, and could drown a grown Cardassian man of an average size of six foot two during rainstorms, although the unfortunate person would probably sooner die of suffocation from the ghastly stench of the water than from drowning. The capital's sewerage system consisted of thousands of tunnels that ran underneath the city in a chaotic labyrinth, which had never been mapped. There was no logic to the layout of the tunnels, and it was only too easy to get lost in the endless, rodent infested passageways. As far as rodents went, Cardassia sported only the best. Around ten times the size of an adult terran rat the Cardassian vole is hairless and has six legs. Their external cartilage and large sharp-toothed jaws definitely make them less than cuddly. The vole is a fighting animal. It attacks everything that gets in its way, and those razor-sharp teeth can do a lot of damage, especially on a child. The sewers definitely were not a place for humanoids and certainly not the ideal environment for raising children.

However, from all corners dark figures of all sizes, clad in black cloaks, were moving towards the center of the sewers, following the musky smell of a warming fire. The fire was not directly in the sewers, but in an adjoining basement -- an ancient and unused part of the Cardassian Institute of Art. Until about a century ago paintings had been stored here, but after the disastrous flooding of 2269, which had destroyed everything that had been put into storage here, this part of the basement had been sealed off, never to be used again. Ancient paintings that had been irreparably damaged during the flooding still lined the walls, their soaked, partially torn parchment now claimed by variety of fungi that ate away at the beauty of the great Cardassian masters of the past.

In the middle of the large vaulted cavern that was the old basement the fire burned warmly, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. People were beginning to gather here.

Dunar stood patiently by the fire, waiting for everyone to make their way to this secret meeting place. The sewers had served the Cardassian underground movement as shelter against the authorities for a long time now. This basement was where he was hiding with his family and the members of his cell. Tonight was an important night. It was time for action. Time to stop hiding in basements and sewers. Help was on the way. But Dunar knew that the help he had called for would not be welcome by everyone. He had to convince the other cells to follow him, to trust him with this one, but they were a proud people....

Dunar's wife Lebora, his daughter Shetala and son Jeloc were hovering by the entrance to the sewers, offering every new arrival a cup of hot fish juice, a beverage that to a Cardassian was like coffee to Kathryn Janeway. The members of Dunar's cell, Dorek, Lemar and Tulin were helping people climb into the basement. Zarel, the only female member of his cell, hovered near the fire opposite him, the flames an angry barrier between them. Zarel seemed to stare into nothing, a deep frown between her young eyes.

Dunar had had a tough time convincing his own cell members that asking Starfleet for help was a good idea. Zarel had yet to be convinced of it. She was decidedly against the plan. The other three -- he sometimes could not believe that his cell of fifteen had been reduced to only four members -- had been reluctant at first, but after Dunar had explained to them just how desperate their situation had become, he had been able to reason with them. Zarel however hated the Federation with such a vengeance that Dunar began to have concerns about her mental health. He had attempted to question her about the reason behind such hatred only to find her completely closing herself to him. This once he wished that the underground movement were not quite as secretive as it was. Most members were known by pseudonyms, fake names that they had chosen to be known by, and no one knew where the next person came from. Apart from a few famous exceptions -- people whose faces were well known through the media -- the resistance was entirely anonymous. What had happened to Zarel to cause such ice-cold hatred against the Federation to rage within this young woman who had barely reached adulthood? There was no way to find out. Zarel certainly was not going to volunteer any information. With a member of his own cell still opposed to the plan, it would be quite a challenge to convince the other cell leaders -- Torat, Retor and Rekelen, not to mention their respective members. But he had to make them understand. It was crucial to the success of their mission and to their survival.

Survival. It had come down to basics. The fact was that resistance members were being exposed on almost a daily basis now, not just in the capital, but also in the other Cardassian cities, even in the colonies. If the underground movement cold not survive, then how would it ever achieve its goal? Survival was now essential for the cause, and no longer simply a selfish goal. The latest exposures, not at least to mention the terrible tragedy of Lemok Togal and his family, were very suspicious. People were beginning to talk of a mole, an infiltrator, a treacherous element among the resistance. It was time to act.

Eventually everyone had gathered in a large circle around the campfire. They had all brought their families. It was the way the resistance worked. You had to keep an eye on your loved ones at all times or you might never see them again. The memory of what had happened to Lemok Togal and his family was still fresh in their memories. Now, with additional talk of an informer among them, they were growing increasingly paranoid. And who could blame them?

Dunar steeled himself, cleared his voice and addressed his visitors.

"Friends! I have some interesting and wonderful news. Finally our victory is at hand. Soon we will be able to realize our dream of a democratic Cardassia. But first we have to open our hearts as well as our minds and fight one final battle. We have allies more powerful than we thought. Help is on the way."

There. That had certainly gotten their attention. Curiosity coursed through the crowd like a beam of light. Dunar chose to continue.

"Before I'll tell you where this help comes from let me share a few things with you. What happened to Lemok Togal and his family was a terrible tragedy. Lemok was a close friend and a loyal citizen, as was his father and his father before him."

Murmurs of agreement came from the crowd.

"His death opened my eyes. I finally realized that we couldn't possibly hope to win this battle alone. We need help. Someone from the outside. Hence, a few days ago, I called in an old favor."

Now curiosity began to mix with suspicion. He could see it in their faces. They were a proud people. It was difficult for proud people to admit that they needed help. And help from the outside? What exactly did that mean? Zarel had moved into a corner of the cavern, and despite the darkness that surrounded her he could see her black eyes glaring at him, shining like coals in the reflection of the campfire. Eyes filled with contempt and outrage. Soon those same emotions would run freely through the crowd, of that he was certain. Dunar took a deep breath before resuming his speech.

"In approximately twelve hours the Federation Starship Voyager will be in orbit of our beloved homeworld."

Shouts of disbelief, protest and disgust erupted. Dunar had to raise his voice and shout the rest of his speech over the outcries of his people.

"Captain Janeway owes me her life, and she has agreed to help us. Furthermore she's got the support of Starfleet and the Federation behind her. They have agreed to aid us in a coup against the Military so that we can build a new, better Cardassia. A Cardassia we can once again be proud of."

No, that definitely did not do the trick. He would have to find another angle to persuade them.

Torat, the leader of the second resistance cell stood up.

"We don't need the help of the self-glorified Federation!" he spat at Dunar.

Now Retor, leader of the third cell rose and proclaimed,

"We're **_Cardassians_**. This is **_our_** homeworld. We don't need interference from outsiders!"

The crowd joined in with cries of agreement.

The final leader, Rekelen of the fourth cell, stood up from the crowd and yelled,

"I would rather die fighting for our Cardassia than beg the Federation for help. It's an outrageous suggestion!"

The crowd chimed in again. Dunar could only shake his head in frustration. He had expected this. Centuries of pride and arrogance and self-glorification were difficult to unlearn, not to mention decades of open animosity against the Federation. The leader of the first cell took a steadying breath and silenced the crowd with one movement of his hand.

"Listen to yourselves! You'd rather die and fail than ask the Federation for help and succeed? Yes, we are used to seeing Starfleet and the Federation as our enemies, but in all the years that we have known them as such they have never been less than honest. If there is one thing that we can be sure of than it is that their offer help is genuine. We can no longer afford this misplaced pride in our past glory. Our situation is desperate. Cardassia is desperate, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Do you really wish to see your families dead? Only too recently you've seen what the exposure of a member of this movement can do. They killed him and his wife and his daughter. If there is an informer among us, how long do you think it will take to expose us all and to stop this movement altogether? A couple of weeks? A few days? We've run out of time. Now we have to swallow our pride and take all the help we can get. This isn't just about our survival; it's not even just about the movement. This is about the future of our children."

There was a brief moment of stunned silence. Then Torat once again addressed Dunar.

"**_You_** may trust the Federation, Dunar. I don't. What if they take this opportunity to conquer our world? We've been at war with them before..."

Dunar shook his head.

I believe that a democratic Cardassia is as much in the Federation's interest as in ours. Besides, they are not the conquering type. They annex territory, not through battle like the Klingons and the Romulans, but through democracy. And I have my own reasons for trusting Kathryn Janeway. Reasons, which I won't discuss here. Suffice it to say that she owes me her life, and I know that she will honor her debt to me."

From the corner of his eye he saw Zarel slipping through the hole out of the basement. His heart sank. If only he knew what was going on in her head...

Once again Dunar addressed the entire crowd in a final plea.

"I'm not asking you to trust the Federation, or Starfleet, or even Kathryn Janeway. All I'm asking is that you trust me like you've done so many times before. Trust my judgment, and help me fight this final battle."

The crowd began to murmur quietly as the members discussed what they had just heard amongst each other. Then finally Rekelen faced Dunar and said,

"We've come to an agreement. We're not willing to trust the Federation with the future of our homeworld and our children. However, we trust you. You've led us well during the past months. If you think that bringing the Federation into this is the right thing to do, then we're with you, Dunar."

Dunar exhaled slowly. Tears began to rise in his eyes as a smile lit up his face.

"I thank you, my friends. I'll make sure you won't regret this. Now let us have a peaceful evening. My wife Lebora has procured some refreshments. And we have some games in that corner. Would anyone like to join me for a game of Kotra?"

The crowd soon relaxed. Everyone helped themselves some food and drink. The children began to play and their parents enjoyed some conversation among themselves. A few people had begun to play Kotra, the traditional Cardassian game of bold strategy and decisive action played between two opponents. The game was reminiscent of the human game of chess, but Kotra used two dice. Like the battle they were about to face Kotra was about attack and aggression. It was a game of war. Had they stopped to think about it, the parallels between the board game they were playing and their real lives would have turned their stomachs. But who was thinking?

"Hot fish juice" may sound disgusting to most of us terrans but as a matter of fact the Japanese have had something very similar for centuries. They use a fish stock called "dashii" for their soups, which are traditionally served for breakfast in Japan. If you have ever drunk Japanese soup out of a bowl you might appreciate the appeal of "Cardassian hot fish juice".


	6. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 5

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 5 

"The time is 04:30 hours. Good morning."

Kathryn Janeway blinked tiredly into the garish light that now suffused her quarters. The sudden brightness hacked into her eyes like a dozen knives. What in the galaxy had possessed her to program the computer to automatically illuminate her quarters at eighty percent each time the alarm went off? She would have to change that. She felt exhausted. After all, she had only had two hours sleep. Sometimes sleeping a little left you more exhausted than not sleeping at all. She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned. Flinging her legs over the side of her bunk she dragged herself out of bed, almost sleepwalking to the bathroom. She slipped off her thin white cotton nightdress -- she had thrown Camet's replica of her peach silk nightgown into the flames of the fireplace at her mother's house, making sure that nothing remained to remind her of the events that had transpired aboard the _Toka Zebok _-- and stood under the sonic shower. Today of all days she could have done with a real water shower, but there simply was no time. Besides, there were more important things to think about than creature comforts...

The sonic waves droned in her ears. Not that the shower was excessively loud, but she had not had much sleep and her headache was definitely getting worse. She contemplated going to sickbay to get a hypo before the pain became intolerable. She would do that if she could find time before the away mission. She had to be in top form today. There would be no room for mistakes.

After two unbearable minutes under the nerve-grinding discord of the sonic shower she stepped out and moved over to the small basin to brush her teeth. Almost by accident she caught her reflection in the mirror. Nasty black shadows had settled around her usually lively eyes, and her complexion looked pallid at best. Her fingers began to examine the circles under her eyes, pulling slightly at the tired skin. She looked old. Loosing a good night's sleep had never been much of a problem for Starfleet Academy cadet Kathryn Janeway, but it seemed that the years were finally catching up with her. She would have to watch herself a bit more, maybe change her diet, drink more water, cut down on the coffee... Well, maybe measures did not have to be quite so drastic. Kathryn Janeway and coffee were inseparable!

She fixed her face so she no longer looked like death warmed up. It would not do to appear weak and sickly before her crew. She was a Starfleet captain, and that meant that she had to project an aura of invincibility, even if it was just an illusion.

Having left the bathroom she donned the black cat suit she was to wear underneath the black monk's cloak for the approaching away mission. The cat suit in itself left very little to the imagination. It was a tight garment made from a new synthetic material that allowed the skin to breathe in heat and also kept the wearer warm in colder climates. The garment clung to her every curve, making her feel a little self- conscious. But it was unique in its practicality. The fact that it fit her body like a glove made it ideal for running, climbing, and similar activities she might be required to engage in planetside. The suit's color not only matched the monk's cloak, but would also serve her well should she have to suddenly hide in shadowy corners to avoid capture. The black hooded cloak -- the hood was large enough to totally hide her face -- was merely a camouflage that would ensure that she would not be readily approached by anyone in the capital, since Delphidian monks were renowned for their reclusion. They lived like hermits, and on those rare occasions when they ventured beyond their monasteries, not to mention beyond their homeworld, they restrained themselves from talking to strangers. Even among themselves conversation was rare, and took only place in hushed voices. Generally aliens avoided the monks.

Apart from making it extremely unlikely that she would be approached by anyone on Cardassia Prime, the cloak was completely impractical. She certainly would not be able to run, let alone climb in it. It was so long that its seams were dragging over the floor, which was great, because the length hid her Starfleet regulation boots from view. But she had to watch her step; otherwise she would trip over the material. She definitely would not wear it before it became absolutely necessary, even if it meant that she would feel a little exposed wearing only the tight cat suit. But Kathryn Janeway had never been one to harbor unnecessary hang-ups. She took a last look at her appearance in the full-length mirror in her bedroom and was pleasantly surprised. Her complexion looked much improved and for a woman who had just hit forty her body was still in pretty good shape -- well toned and slim. Of course, being in Starfleet meant working out on a regular basis, and she ate very little at the best of times, often skipping meals and substituting them with coffee to keep herself going. This morning was no exception. There was no time for breakfast, so she would jump-start herself with a cup of strong Columbian coffee.

Rubbing her temples, Kathryn went over to the replicator in her dining are and replicated a large mug of the black hot beverage. Then she grabbed the padds with the data that she had discussed with Chakotay and previously with Ross Marlow, flung the black cloak over her arm and left her quarters to make her way to the briefing room. The briefing was scheduled for 05:00 hours. All of Voyager's senior officers, as well as Chakotay, B'Elanna Torres, Tom Paris and Kurt Bendera were invited. This was a "Plan B Meeting", and headaches and knotted muscles aside, she felt a small thrill of triumph when she passed Ross Marlow's quarters, who was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the things that were going on around him.

Everyone was already assembled in the briefing room. Additional chairs had been put around the table so that everyone attending the meeting had a seat. Janeway wished everyone a good morning and took her position at the top of the table to open the meeting. She deposited the padds on the table, then hung the black cloak over the back of her chair and sat down. Cradling her coffee with both hands she glanced around at her people. They returned her gaze expectantly. Janeway noticed that Chakotay, Tom and Tuvok were wearing the same black suits. B'Elanna Torres and Joe Carey were sitting next to each other at the far end of the table. They looked tired. She was not surprised. The engineering team had had a tough night. She had no doubt that Carey and Torres had still been sweating over the improvements to the shuttle minutes before they were supposed to attend the briefing.

Janeway focused her attention on Joe Carey, who was currently the senior Starfleet officer in engineering.

"Mr. Carey, how are the improvements of the shuttle coming along," she inquired.

Carey straightened himself and cleared his voice before he started,

"We have completed the adjustments. The shuttle's energy output has been increased by thirty-six percent. That should be enough to support the cloaking device for six to eight hours independently from Voyager's power source. The shuttle is ready for launch, Captain."

She allowed herself a satisfied smile.

"Excellent."

Janeway turned serious.

" I want to make it absolutely clear that this meeting is highly confidential and may not be discussed with anyone outside this room. Mr. Marlow is not to be informed of anything concerning the shuttle or this meeting. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, although some of the assembled seemed more than a little confused by her order. It did not matter. They did not have to know everything. What was important was that the away team more or less understood what was going on. Chakotay knew how she felt about Marlow, and he shared her feelings in this case. Tuvok accepted her decision and did not question it further. As for Paris, he seemed mildly surprised, but not excessively so. His reaction did not bother her much. He was not officially a member of her crew, just an observer. His rank had not officially been restored, and he was an ex-convict. She did not feel the need to explain her command decisions to the likes of him.

After a short silence Janeway resumed the meeting.

"Good. Now lets discuss what's going to happen today. We will reach Cardassia Prime in approximately three hours. Our contact there will transmit the coordinates for a secret rendezvous point planetside. Once we have received those, an away team consisting of Mr. Marlow, Mr. Chakotay, Mr. Paris and myself will take a cloaked shuttle to the planet's surface and meet with the leaders of the underground movement. We will be wearing the traditional attire of Delphidian monks, which should provide us with a certain amount of privacy as well as a certain degree of camouflage. Once we have established contact with the resistance we will transmit an encrypted message to Voyager, containing the details of our rescue plan. Whether we take the shuttle back or use the transporters to beam the members of the resistance up will depend on the situation we find ourselves in at the time. As Mr. Carey said, the cloaking device will only be functional for six to eight hours. We may need more time than that. Then again, we may not. We'll have to play this by ear, so to speak. However, transporters are only to be used in an emergency. I don't want to endanger Voyager's cloak. Oh, and there's one last thing. For the duration of the away mission Mr. Tuvok will be in command of Voyager. Mr. Bendera, you'll be looking after the well-being of the Maquis."

Tuvok interrupted,

"Captain, I was under the impression that I was going to be part of the away team. For your own protection I would strongly advise..."

Janeway raised a hand to stop him. Gravely she turned towards her security chief who was all prepared for the mission, wearing the assigned outfit.

"Mr. Tuvok, after long consideration I have decided against your joining the away team. As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Marlow was right about one thing. Voyager needs to be in competent hands while the away team is on Cardassia. Someone needs to be here to get the team out of trouble should things go wrong planetside. I'm sure you understand the importance of an experienced commander in such situations."

Tuvok still did not look very happy, if a Vulcan's facial expressions could ever be read in such a way. He was not convinced of the logic behind his captain's decision.

"I understand, Captain. However, might I suggest that **_you_** remain onboard to command the vessel while**_ I _**join the away team in your stead? The risk to your safety is considerable. May I remind you of your last encounter with the Cardassians? In their eyes you are a wanted criminal."

It was as passionate an objection as she had ever had from her Vulcan security chief. But Janeway shook her head impatiently.

"This is not up for discussion, Lieutenant. I have made my decision. I'm going to lead the team. You'll stay here. Understood?"

Hesitantly Tuvok consented.

"As you wish, Captain."

Tuvok was less than happy with Janeway's decision. But over the years he had spent under her command, he had become accustomed to her sometimes reckless and stubborn, yet successful leadership. Janeway was his commanding officer. All he could do was resign himself to the fact that she had made a decision and keep a close eye on the team while they were on the Cardassian homeworld. However, he would voice his objections in his official log, and he told her so.

"Do what you deem necessary, Mr. Tuvok, " she responded dispassionately.

Janeway was as accustomed to Tuvok's little quirks as he was to hers. He had often voiced his objections to her command decisions in his log. She had expected as much. Tuvok hated any and all deviations from Starfleet protocol. That was part of his strength and part of his weakness as an officer. The most famous captains in the history of the Federation had all ignored, twisted or re-interpreted protocol at some point in their career. It was their ability to adapt their command to the situation at hand that made them great. Tuvok, as most Vulcans, was incapable of such impulsive actions. This character trait made him a first class security and tactical officer, but he would have made a mediocre captain.

Janeway now directed herself to Harry Kim.

"Mr. Kim, I want you to run a thorough systems diagnostic. Let me know the results as soon as you've got them. It is of the utmost importance that this vessel is functioning at peak efficiency. Mr. Carey, I want you to take another look at Voyager's cloaking device. Make absolutely sure that it is working. I don't want any nasty surprises. Miss Torres, I need you to come up with an emergency backup system for both Voyager and the shuttle, in case the cloaking devices fail. Do you think you can do that?"

B'Elanna shot her a hostile glance. Was Janeway questioning her engineering abilities? Had she not seen what she had done to the Maquis base on the asteroid? She had practically performed miracles in the past, and she had had no small part in improving the efficiency in the shuttle's energy output during the night. Hell, she was the best engineer they had! She was more than a class above Carey. B'Elanna had the very strong impulse to give Janeway a piece of her mind. But then Chakotay cleared his voice, and as she glanced in his direction she caught the warning in his eyes. So she responded with a simple, clipped,

"Yes, Captain."

Janeway allowed herself to relax a little. Things were going just fine for now.

"Good. If you're a member of the away team, get your gear together. We don't know exactly how much time we'll have later. You'll all attend another meeting here at 06:00 hours for Mr. Marlow's benefit. I can't stress this enough. What we have discussed does not leave this room. This meeting never happened. Understood?"

She glanced around at her assembled senior crew and Maquis guests. Satisfied that they would follow her last order she left it at that.

"Fine. Lets do it. I'll be in my Ready Room. Dismissed."

The small group dispersed. Only Chakotay stayed behind.

"Kathryn?"

He had startled her. She had been studying some data on a padd, assuming that everyone had left the briefing room. He had risen from his seat and taken a few steps towards her. She could not help but notice how attractive he looked in the tight black suit. Damn, she did not need such distractions right now. Not now that they were so close to Cardassia. Kathryn felt her cheeks flush and her palms were getting moist. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before asking,

"Yes, Chakotay? Is there something else?"

She could still feel the hostility from him and was fully prepared for another argument when he said,

"I would like to request that Kurt Bendera joins the away team. I don't trust Marlow, and I don't trust Paris either. That leaves you and me. I think we could do with another man on our side."

She considered his request for a moment, then shook her head.

"Four people on Cardassia Prime are more than enough, Chakotay. The bigger the team the greater the risk of discovery."

"Then leave Paris here and take Bendera instead!" he argued hotly.

"I need Paris to fly the shuttle. He's the best pilot we have. And I believe Mr. Bendera will keep your Maquis in check while you're gone."

He knew she was right, but so was he. Bendera had a knack for keeping the hot flaring tempers of the Maquis under control. But Chakotay could not bring himself to trust Paris. Not again. Not after he had betrayed Chakotay's cell to Starfleet.

"I think you're making a mistake here, Kathryn."

She deliberately averted her gaze from him before responding. She did not want to see his reaction to what she had to say, and she much less wanted to see him in that damn suit again. It was too distracting. She still had to come to terms with her feelings for him. Hell, she was not even sure if she had feelings for him, but something was stirring in her right now, and she did not like it much.

"Captain's privilege, Mr. Chakotay. If that's all..." she responded icily, rising from her chair and escaped through the doors to her adjacent ready room without another glance at the tall, darkly handsome man in the briefing room.

As the doors closed behind her, the Maquis leader let out an exasperated sigh and stormed out onto the bridge. Why did she have to be so difficult? Why did they always have to argue? And why did she have to look so damned gorgeous in that cat suit?

At 06:00 hours everyone was again assembled in the briefing room. This time Ross Marlow had joined them. The atmosphere around the table was tense. Marlow was more than a little surprised to find out that they were not going to use the transporters after all. They were going to take a cloaked shuttle, and despite his numerous protestations, Janeway did not budge on the matter.

"**_Captain_**, with all due respect, **_I _**am the expert on this mission. Don't you think you should give my advice some thought," he asked, the sarcasm plain in his voice.

For long seconds the captain stared at him in total silence. Marlow met her glance unintimidatedly, as if they were measuring each other's stamina. Eventually Janeway broke the strange spell,

"I've given it plenty of thought, Mr. Marlow. As a matter of fact I've thought about nothing else since you mentioned your plan to me last night. I told you then I was unhappy with using the transporters when they aren't reliable. We're going to take the shuttle. End of discussion."

Marlow rubbed his chin in agitation. He had always known that Janeway would be a problem. There was no way he could allow them to use the shuttle instead of the transporters. It would complicate the entire plan! It could even jeopardize it. But all his reasoning with her had gotten him nowhere so far. Maybe it was time to approach the matter differently...

"Captain Janeway, you know that Admiral Nechayev has given me carte blanche on this mission. I suggest you stick to her orders. Otherwise I may be forced to inform your superiors of your refusal to cooperate."

Janeway took a deep breath. It seemed more and more obvious now that her first impression of Ross Marlow had been spot on. The man was nothing but bad news. In the name of diplomacy she tried once more to explain her decision to him.

"Mr. Marlow, I am the captain of this ship, and my first duty is to my crew. In my opinion it is too risky to use the transporters for anything but absolute emergencies during the course of this mission. We can't ensure safe transports as long as the cloaking device is draining our power systems. And we can't drop our cloak while we are in Cardassian space. What if the transporters cause a power fluctuation and the cloak fails? Voyager would be exposed, and you know as well as I do what that orbital defense perimeter is capable of doing to a vessel. I won't risk the safety of this crew. What you're suggesting is putting the lives of these people unnecessarily and recklessly in jeopardy, and I won't stand for it."

To her surprise Marlow's only reaction to her explanation was an arrogant grin. Then he dropped the bomb.

"Well, Captain, since Starfleet Command put me in charge of this mission, we are going to use the transporters regardless of whether you deem it safe or not."

Janeway shot out of her seat, her face aflush with anger. Her voice assumed a low, threatening tone.

"You'll do no such thing, Sir. You seem to forget that Voyager is still my ship!"

Unfortunately the clear warning contained in her message had been wasted on Marlow. With an impatient sigh he addressed everyone in the briefing room, taking control of the meeting as if Janeway were no longer there.

"Ladies, gentlemen, we're running out of time here. Lets drop this matter for now and jump to the next point. Mr. Chakotay, I don't think you'll be needed on this away mission. In my opinion you'd be better utilized aboard this ship, keeping your troops in check, so to speak."

Chakotay was just about to tell Marlow what he really thought of him when Janeway jumped in,

"Mr. Marlow, you don't know these people. I assembled this away team, and I have good reasons to ask Chakotay to join us...."

She had been right all along. The man was insufferable! He seemingly got a thrill out of undermining her authority. Marlow sighed dramatically.

"Captain, it seems that we are bound to be at odds today. I'm sure you had your **_personal_** reasons to include Mr. Chakotay, but my primary concerns lie with this mission, not with your personal preferences."

Ouch! That had been below the belt! He was walking a very fine line. Kathryn's eyes narrowed threateningly.

"What exactly are you implying, Mr. Marlow," Janeway clipped.

A lascivious grin spread across Marlow's face. He was going in for the kill.

"Oh, come on, Kathryn! Everyone knows about you and Chakotay. Hell, your little affair with the bad guy almost got you marched out of Starfleet! If it weren't for the fact that they need you and Voyager for this mission, Starfleet would have kicked you out months ago!"

Finally Marlow was showing his true face. He was starting to behave just like the little viper she had assumed he was. Janeway felt her blood drain from her body. She could not believe he had addressed her like that in front of her senior officers. Who the hell did the man think he was? She gave him an icy look. Fighting hard to keep her temper at bay, jaws clenched tight, she hissed,

"That's quite enough, Mr. Marlow! I don't know what means of diplomacy you have become accustomed to during your time on Cardassia, but they won't get you anywhere here. This meeting is over. You're all dismissed. Get back to your stations! Mr. Marlow, I want a word with you in private!"

The group dispersed with Marlow remaining behind. Janeway began to agitatedly pace the room. Anything to stop her from vaporizing the man with a phaser... Ross Marlow remained quietly in his seat. Eventually she shouted at him,

"What the hell did you think you were doing talking to me in that tone? And in front of my crew!"

Marlow turned towards her, still the picture of perfect composure, his voice patronizingly compassionate,

"Kathryn, I wanted to spare you this embarrassment in the company of your senior crew, but you gave me no choice. I cannot allow you to go ahead with your plan. I can't pull rank on you, since I don't officially have a rank, but Admiral Nechayev has put me in charge of this mission, and I intend to implement my original plan. It's all for the best of this mission!"

Janeway crossed her arms in front of her and measured Marlow carefully. She could not believe he had the audacity to call her by her Christian name, after all he had said. She had a hundred insults she wanted to throw at him, but she bit her tongue. Marlow was still calm, at least outwardly, and it simply would not do for her to loose her temper while he remained so very much in control.

Suddenly she said,

"And how exactly do you intend to stop me, _Mr. Marlow_? And, by the way, it's 'Captain Janeway' for you."

She had deliberately used the polite form of address despite the fact that he had asked her to call him Ross.

Marlow stepped closer towards her.

"Kathryn, I advice you to be reasonable. We can still work on this together! I won't beat around the bush, Kathryn. You're an intelligent and very attractive woman with more courage than most male Starfleet captains, and I like you. I really don't want to do this, but if you refuse to follow my recommendations I will inform Starfleet Command of your refusal to co-operate. And I will recommend your instant dismissal, _Captain._"

Kathryn measured him carefully. Then a sarcastic smile rose on her lips.

"Well, it's always good to know where I stand," she said and turned to leave the room.

Marlow's features went from confused to threatening. Quickly he called after her,

"Have you forgotten how Starfleet Command currently feel about you, Captain? I'm beginning to think their doubts in you were justified. You've obviously been brain-washed by that Maquis."

She had stopped dead in her tracks and he moved up behind her.

"What did he do, _Kathryn_? Bed you? Force you? Did you like it? He must have been one hell of a revelation under the sheets!"

That was all it took. Something in her snapped. She spun around and slapped him hard across the cheek. Marlow's hand went to cradle his burning cheek, his eyes sparkling with uncontained fury. Then everything happened very fast -- too fast for her to do anything about it. The man jumped for her and in an instant she found herself pressed hard against the bulkhead. He was holding her arms over her head, pushing her form into the bulkhead with the full force of his own body so that Janeway's breath was knocked out of her and she was completely trapped. Moving his mouth so close to her ear that his lips almost touched her skin, he hissed,

"That was a mistake, Captain! I'm taking command of your ship. You can spend the rest of the trip in the brig. I'll inform Admiral Nechayev of your extremely unprofessional behavior. She already believes that you're psychologically unstable anyway."

His grip on her wrists tightened painfully, and she shuddered in revulsion as his hot breath made contact with the skin of her ear. Then he continued,

"Count yourself lucky that this is a Starfleet vessel! If we were on a Cardassian ship right now, I'd make sure I'd teach you a lesson you'd never forget. I'd make certain you'd need all the Starfleet counselors you could get..."

She saw the malice in his eyes, and knew that he had great difficulty restraining himself from teaching her those lessons despite the fact that they were aboard a Starfleet vessel. He was still crushing her into the bulkhead, restraining her arms so that she could not activate her combadge. It was time for another strategy, before she ran out of time...

She forced a smile and said almost seductively,

"I'm sure we can resolve this matter amicably, Ross. If you run your plan by me once more, maybe I could be convinced after all...."

A grin spread across his face.

"That's more like it. I thought you might respond to me this way. You like to be dominated once in a while, don't you Captain?" he said and released the pressure against her body just a little to let his eyes travel across the curves of her body. Janeway took the opportunity to strike. She raised her knee and aimed for his groin. Doubling over with pain, a multitude of curses escaped Marlow. Immediately Janeway tapped her combadge.

"Security to the briefing room!"

Marlow, quickly recovering from the blow, lashed out at her, but she had anticipated his move and managed to dodge the assault. Split seconds later Tuvok and Chakotay stormed into the room, followed by a couple of security guards who grabbed hold of Marlow. Janeway straightened herself and ordered icily,

"Take him to the brig!"

Chakotay looked shocked. Despite his Native American heritage she could tell that his face had gone decisively pale.

Tuvok stepped towards his captain and asked,

"Captain, are you alright?"

Was that a tinge of concern in the Vulcan's voice? Janeway was flattered. After all the years they had worked together, Tuvok apparently saw her as more than just a superior officer. Vulcans rarely forged friendships with humans, but it was not unheard of. As a matter of fact Spock's father had even married a human woman. But Tuvok was already married, and his 'feelings' for her -- and she did not care about Tuvok's constant denial of those, because she had often seen emotions cross his feature, however subtle they might be -- were purely platonic.

"I'm fine, Tuvok. But we have a problem...."

Tuvok said opposite the captain in her ready room. Chakotay had been pacing the room for a few minutes, trying to talk some sense into her. But he was not having much luck.

"Kathryn, you can't possibly mean to take him on the away mission! Not after what he just did," Chakotay argued hotly.

Tuvok for once agreed with Chakotay.

"Mr. Chakotay is correct, Captain. It would be reckless of you to take Mr. Marlow with you. As a member of the away team he would be carrying a phaser. The risk of another attack is too high."

Marlow's attack had done nothing to alleviate her headache. And Chakotay's and Tuvok's objections to allow Marlow to join the team despite the attack in the briefing room were not exactly relieving the pressure on her temples. She pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath and said,

"Chakotay, sit down! You're making me dizzy!"

The Maquis was a little surprised by her sudden outburst, but he complied. When he had settled in the chair next to Tuvok's she continued,

" Gentlemen, I appreciate your concerns, but I'll have you, Mr. Chakotay, and Mr. Paris to protect me from any further assaults. I don't intend to give Marlow a phaser. He'll have to rely on us to defend him if the need occurs. But the fact is, we need Marlow. He's the only one who has a thorough insight into the Cardassian culture. Furthermore, he knows the capital of Cardassia Prime like the back of his hand. Frankly, we can't afford to go on this mission without him. He'll do us no service locked up in our dungeon."

Chakotay shook his head in disagreement. He argued,

"What makes you think he'll still help us? I saw the look in his eyes when you sent him to the brig, Kathryn. I've seen eyes like that before, in the Maquis. It's pure and unadulterated hatred! That man is holding a serious grudge against you, Kathryn. What if he hates you enough to turn you or even the whole ship over to the Cardassians? After all, he used to live with them. Maybe he got to like them!"

Tuvok joined the discussion,

"I concur with Mr. Chakotay. There have been incidents in the past where Federation agents have been found to work for more than one side. Double agents are not a rarity, Captain. And Mr. Marlow's attack against you proves that we cannot ascertain where his true loyalties lie."

Frowning, Janeway folded her hands in front of her and measured her two advisers. They had a point. Marlow did not exactly hold warm, fuzzy feelings for her, and there was a risk that he might hand them over to the enemy, but his experience was absolutely essential for this mission. No one else on Voyager had intricate knowledge of Cardassian computer systems, encryptions, protocols, etc. They would just have to go on as planned. There was no time for last minute changes. They could not return into Federation space and get a new advisor. They needed to get the rebels off the planet now, before more bloodshed occurred. Janeway closed the meeting.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm afraid that's a risk we'll have to take. Dismissed."

Clearly reluctant to end the meeting on that note, the two men left the room for the bridge.

On her way to the brig Janeway had dropped by the sickbay. The EMH had given her a hypospray for her headache. Feeling a lot better she was on her way to face Marlow once again. A security guard sat next to the entrance, watching the prisoner. Janeway sent him away. She wanted to talk to Marlow alone.

Arms crossed in front of her she stood centimeters away from the force field of his cell. Marlow sat on a bench at the wall, making no effort to get up and giving her the most infuriating grin.

Kathryn steeled herself. She wanted to kick the man out of an airlock, but that was not exactly a choice at the moment. She would just have to put up with him until they had the rebels securely onboard.

"Mr. Marlow, your earlier behavior is unforgivable and will have repercussions. I have filed a report with Lieutenant Tuvok. I'll also report this incident to Admiral Nechayev as soon as I get the chance. But at the moment I'm concerned with more pressing matters."

She was searching his face for some show of emotion, but he disappointed her. His face remained a mask of arrogant indifference. She continued,

"In a few minutes we will enter Cardassian space. Don't get me wrong, you belong in the brig! But right now I need you on the bridge. You'll also still join the away team. But you won't be carrying a phaser. That privilege is revoked. And make no mistake! If I catch you making even the slightest hostile movement toward me or any of my crew, I will shoot you down, and I won't waste time checking if my phaser is set for stun."

Marlow rose and stepped toward the force field. His arrogant grin appeared to spread even broader.

"So you need me, Captain! What makes you think I'll cooperate?"

Janeway turned to leave the room. Just before she exited through the doors she called over her shoulder,

"You either co-operate, or you can spend the rest of this mission in the brig. It's your choice!"

With those words she left the brig.

A few minutes later two guards entered the brig and lowered the force field to Marlow's cell. He was more than willing to leave his prison, and was escorted to the bridge without incident.

Janeway could not help wondering about Marlow on her way from the brig to main engineering. Maybe the years he had spent among Cardassians had done some permanent psychological damage to him. Or maybe the genetic alteration process he had gone through had done something to his brain. Genetic alteration was a relatively new procedure, implemented by Starfleet medical to help camouflage Federation spies posted in hostile territories. Until about ten years ago, spies had simply been surgically altered to appear Cardassian, or Romulan, or whatever else their mission required them to be. But then genetic alteration had been introduced. The procedure literally changed the subject's genes into alien genes. Without it, spies could be uncovered through a simply blood test, but with it they were basically undetectable. But since the treatment was still in its teething period it had only been administered to a handful of agents.

Janeway had instantly disliked Marlow at their first meeting, but she had never until now thought him a raving lunatic. It was as if there were indeed two souls trapped in one body... One human, and the other one Cardassian. Was he really to blame for his actions? Or was he in fact a sick man in need of psychological rehabilitation? Schizophrenia was not as common a condition in humans as it had once been. Ever since pre-natal gene screening procedures had been introduced a couple of centuries ago, such illnesses had been nearly annihilated. But who knew what effects dramatic procedures such as multiple genetic alterations could have? Since the procedure was still in its experimental phase side effects were not yet known. And Marlow had gone from human to Cardassian and back. That double treatment and long term residence in enemy territory, not to mention the extreme levels of stress Federation spies were sometimes submitted to. They had to contact the Federation from hostile territory, and discovery often meant painful death through torture. So, double exposure to an experimental procedure, extreme long-term stress and years of living among enemies... Should she give Marlow the benefit of doubt?

At 07:00 all the senior staff, except for Carey and Torres who were busy in Engineering and Shuttlebay Two respectively, were assembled on the Bridge. Janeway, who had been both in Engineering and in the shuttlebay in order to convince herself personally that the cloaking devices were working, stepped out of the turbolift and took her seat next to Chakotay. To the right of her captain's chair sat Marlow, sporting a smug expression, a guard standing on either side. Nevertheless she kept an eye on him.

"Entering the Chin'toka System," Tom Paris announced at the helm.

This was it. They had entered Cardassian space. Crunch time. Janeway shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed on the viewscreen. From the corners of her eyes she watched the two men on either side of her. Both dressed in black suits, they had their eyes fixed on the viewscreen. Chakotay seemed tense. It was to be expected, since the Maquis had regarded the Cardassians as their archenemies for years. They had fought against them in the DMZ, but never this deeply into Cardassian space. For a Maquis to stride this far into Cardassian territory would be tantamount to suicide, so it was no surprise that he was a little on edge.

Marlow, on the other hand, appeared strangely relaxed as if he did not have a care in the world. Considering the developments of the past hour and the danger they were going to face in the hours yet ahead, his behavior seemed out of place. Then again, maybe all those years spent among Cardassians as a Federation spy had made him accustomed to that kind of danger. They certainly had done something to him.

As for herself, Janeway felt her stomach knot as they passed the planets of the Chin'toka system. So far Cardassian sensors had not detected them. But what if there was a glitch in the cloaking device? What if it failed? Even if it powered down for only a nanosecond they might be detected. Would Starfleet and the Federation come to their help? Probably not. That was the reason for choosing Voyager for this mission in the first place. She was officially a Maquis ship with no ties to the Federation or Starfleet. Kathryn swallowed hard at the implications. They were on their own. If they were captured, they would be treated as terrorists. The Cardassian's would no doubt torture them to extract information about the remaining Maquis, their hideouts, weapons, ships, etc. Eventually they would all be executed.

Kathryn Janeway tried to control her breathing as Voyager passed the brown Cardassian worlds of the Chin'toka system. She did not seem to be able to get enough air into her lungs. Her moist hands were clenching the armrests of her chair until her knuckles were white with the effort. Quickly rubbing her wet palms on her pants she tried to assume a more relaxed stance. It was important that the crew could look to her for moral support. No point in frightening the hell out of them, even if that was exactly what this mission was doing to her. And she certainly was not going to let her apprehension show in front of Marlow!

Voyager passed the Chin'toka and the neighboring Orias system without incident. At the current speed of warp six they would reach the Cardassian homeworld in less than fifteen minutes. Janeway felt the familiar butterflies as the away mission approached. Butterflies were a good thing. It meant that her body was producing more adrenalin than usual, which sharpened her mind and quickened her reflexes. But that knowledge did not make her feel better.

Next to her Marlow cleared his throat.

"Captain, may I once more appeal to your better judgment. Using the transporters would be much safer than traveling to the planet in a cloaked shuttle."

The man clearly did not know when to stop! Janeway's eyes literally spat fire as she growled,

"Mr. Marlow, we've been over this a thousand times. I've made my decision. We're taking the shuttle."

She saw another grin spread across his features and already steeled herself for another stinging remark. Marlow did not disappoint.

"Captain, if you don't mind my asking, did Mr. Chakotay use his **_charm_** to talk you into this? It sounds like one of his miscalculated, ill-devised, kamikaze Maquis tactics..."

"What?!?"

Chakotay jumped out of his chair, moving towards Marlow ready to resort to good old-fashioned fisticuffs. Janeway jutted out of her seat and stood between the two raving men who looked like they were just about to kill each other. Her stance left no room for debate.

"Gentlemen! I expect that you conduct yourselves according to protocol while you're on my ship. Sit down now, or I'll have you both thrown in the brig!"

Her eyes were burning with barely contained fury. How dare these two behave like hooligans on her bridge? And how dare Marlow bring this up again?

Chakotay returned to his seat while the two security officers who were still standing on either side of him pushed Marlow non-too gently back into his chair.

Suddenly Marlow requested,

"Captain Janeway, may I see you in your ready room?"

She could not believe he had the guts to ask! Did he really think she would spend another second alone with him? The man either delusional or incredibly cocky. She would have put anything on the latter.

Chakotay, too, had difficulty believing it. If Marlow thought he was going to allow him to threaten Kathryn again, he was even more deluded than Chakotay had previously assumed. The Native American shot out of his seat and grabbed Marlow by the collar before anyone could intervene.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, you two-faced vole," Chakotay spat into the man's face.

This time Marlow lost his calm and rose to the bait.

"Is this how you solve your problems in your little terrorist cell, Chakotay? Who are you to judge me? You are the scum of the quadrant! An officer who deserted Starfleet to lead a bunch of renegades and endanger the peace treaty! And he doesn't shy away from sleeping with the enemy as long as it gets him what he wants! Tell me, Chakotay, is that how you recruited your little bunch of renegade females? Can you recommend one of them? The nights are so long on Voyager... What about B'Elanna? She looks like hot stuff. Or even better, how about Kathryn here? I bet our feisty little captain here can be very entertaining! Tell me, Chakotay, how was it for you?"

Chakotay was about to punch Marlow's daylights out, when one of the guards that had been watching Marlow switched sides and restrained the big Maquis. Marlow had risen from his seat, but the other guard made sure he moved no further.

The Captain was furious. She stood in front of both of them and spat,

"Gentlemen, I'll have you know that if you don't see fit to contain your tempers, I will confine both of you to quarters. Mr. Marlow, if I hear one more obscenity out of your mouth I will ban you from this mission, and you can spend the rest of this trip in the brig. Is that understood?"

Marlow simply grinned in response.

"Let me teach him a lesson he won't so quickly forget, Kathryn," Chakotay hissed as he struggled against the guard who was still restraining him.

The Captain took a few steps towards the Maquis and looked him straight in the eyes. The she said as calmly as she could muster,

"You'll do no such thing, Chakotay! There are a lot of lives at stake here. I strongly suggest we concentrate on the task at hand!"

Janeway's restrained had the desired effect on Chakotay. He calmed down visibly and returned to his seat. Janeway let out an inaudible sigh. This was like having two pubescent Klingons onboard her ship...

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Ross Marlow muttered quietly under his breath, referring to Chakotay's not so privileged treatment by the guards and the Captain. Janeway did her best to shut him out of her mind. No point in rising to the bait. In the end Tuvok put an end to the argument as he announced,

"We're entering orbit of Cardassia Prime."

Everyone's attention was now focused on the viewscreen. The brown Cardassian homeworld lay before them, covered in clouds. The orbital defense system was impressive. Janeway could not begin to count all the weapons platforms, mines, etc. But she was sure that Tuvok would be able to give her a definite number if she asked him. Good old reliable Vulcans. She would have one of them any day in exchange for Ross Marlow...

"Captain, we're being hailed," Ensign Kim reported nervously.

As the youngest member of her crew she knew that fear must affect him worse then anybody else. Especially with the current tension between herself, Marlow and Chakotay. It really was not fair of Starfleet to send Harry along. He had only just graduated from Starfleet Academy, and he deserved better then being pulled into this mess, not to mention having his record ruined this early in his career, and through no fault of his own...

"On screen," Janeway demanded.

On the viewscreen the distorted image of Gul Dunar appeared. The message was being transmitted at such a low subspace bandwidth in order to avoid detection, that it was difficult for Voyager's crew to understand or see anything. The image became more and more distorted as the message went on, and in the end Janeway could not make out a single word.

"Can you clear it up a little, Mr. Kim," she inquired impatiently.

Harry was already busily pushing buttons on his OPS console.

"Just a minute, Captain, I've almost got it," he replied.

The image of Dunar on the viewscreen cleared up, as did the garbled message.

"This is Gul Dunar to the Federation Starship Voyager. Are you receiving?"

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway. We can hear you just fine, Dunar. It's nice to see you again!"

Janeway flashed him a genuine smile.

"Likewise, Captain. I will now transmit the rendezvous coordinates."

No time for small talk. There was such fevered urgency in Dunar's voice that Janeway hated to think what had transpired since their last meeting. She only hoped that Voyager was not to late. There was a moment of silence on the bridge that seemed to last a little too long for comfort. Janeway turned in her chair towards the ensign at the OPS console.

"Mr. Kim, is there a problem?"

Kim looked distraught. He was busily working the buttons on his console, but it was obvious that he was not having much success.

"There seems to be some subspace interference of some kind, Captain. I don't know what's causing it, but it's blocking the transmission," the clearly frustrated Mr. Kim announced.

Tuvok double-checked the ensign's findings, then reported,

"Confirmed, Captain. I cannot ascertain the source of the interference."

Janeway was just about to take a look herself when suddenly the OPS console bleeped and Harry announced excitedly,

"It looks like whatever was interfering with the transmission had gone. I've got the coordinates, Captain!"

Janeway allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief before she addressed the Cardassian on the viewscreen.

"Gul Dunar, we have received the coordinates. We will rendezvous with you at 10:00 hours. That will give us both two hours to get organized."

"Very well. I look forward to seeing you again, Captain."

She allowed herself a smile.

"Likewise. Janeway out."

Harry Kim cut the transmission.

"Alright people, lets do it," Kathryn said as she walked to the turbolift, Chakotay, Marlow and his guards and Paris trailing behind her. Somehow she questioned the wisdom of having both Chakotay and Marlow on the away team. But she trusted Chakotay explicitly. He had saved her life the last time they had encountered the Cardassians. She felt saver with him on the team, although that explanation was probably not adequate for Starfleet Command... She would take the heat later if necessary. Her one real regret was that she needed Marlow as an expert on all things Cardassian...

They had made their way to shuttlebay two and boarded the shuttle that had been fitted with the cloaking device. Janeway looked around at her fellow teammates. Chakotay and Marlow had been avoiding each other since their last outbreak, which was a good sign as far as she could tell. They sat quietly on opposite sides of the shuttle. Better no exchange between them at all, then an exchange of fists. Chakotay was keeping a close eye on his adversary, ready to jump him should he try to attack the captain. Good. It made her feel safe.

Tom seemed calm at the helm. He was preparing the shuttle for take off. Janeway's head spun with the problems at hand. She did not trust Marlow, Marlow did not trust Chakotay, Chakotay trusted neither Marlow nor Paris, and Tom... God only knew! The butterflies in her stomach were still fluttering about, and she felt like all her muscles had knotted. A shudder went over her spine. She had a feeling of impending doom about this mission. Something was terribly wrong, but she could not put a finger on it. Something was telling her that she was just about to make a big mistake. Something that had happened. Probably something very small, a minute indication of trouble. Maybe she was simply feeling this way because she was uncomfortable in Marlow's presence. But no. There was more to it than that. She felt as if she had missed something. An important detail. Maybe she should have brought Tuvok along after all....

"All systems ready, Captain," Tom announced at the helm.

Janeway squared her jaw. She was sitting next to Tom in the co-pilot seat. Through the viewscreen she could see into space through the wide-open bay doors of shuttle bay two. There was no point in stalling now. However she felt about this mission, as long as she did not have any concrete problems to point at they simply had to proceed. Taking a deep breath she ordered,

"Engage!"

The shuttle glided elegantly through the forcefield that protected the shuttlebay from decompression, and they slowly sailed towards the brown planet.

The bridge was deadly quiet. Everyone was staring at the viewscreen. There was nothing to be seen, but they all knew that the shuttlecraft was there, only cloaked.

Tuvok sat straight-backed in the captain's chair. He had told Ensign Kim to monitor the shuttle's progress. Voyager's sensors had been specially adapted to monitor ships fitted with her special type of cloak.

Tuvok believed the ensign was perfectly capable of dealing with the task he had set him. Nevertheless he kept a close eye on the shuttle himself via the console attached to the captain's chair. So far the mission was going as planned. No glitches in the cloaking device, no unexpected complications. But Tuvok was uneasy.

Everyone on the bridge was holding their breath, and the only sounds to be heard were the occasional beeps coming from the various consoles.

"Sir, the shuttle has landed just outside the capital's western borders, as planned," Kim announced enthusiastically, finally exhaling the breath he had been holding for what had seemed like an eternity.

"Thank you, Ensign."

Tuvok did not share the ensign's enthusiasm or relief. He would not have a single relaxed moment until the away team, and above all the captain, were back onboard, preferably in one piece.

It was an overcast day, although it was not too windy yet. However, the clouds were moving fast in the sky, and that probably meant that the wind was soon going to pick up. As expected the temperature on Cardassia was a little higher than human comfort required. Cardassia Prime's sun was a little closer to the planet than Earth's sun. Naturally the Cardassians had evolved with the higher temperatures, much like the Vulcans on their desert planet.

The shuttle had landed in a derelict field, just outside the capital. Nothing much grew, except for a few weeds. A few homes were scattered about the area, but nothing closer than about a kilometer to their position. In the distance, further to the west, they could see a row of glassy domes -- the airponic environments in which most of Cardassia Prime's crops were grown to feed the ever-expanding population of the fruitless planet. East of their position, and therefore closer to the capital, stood several industrial replicators, also used to feed the population.

Chakotay had noticed Kathryn's fascination with the aerponic environments and the industrial replicators and walked up to her.

"Amazing, isn't it? An entire world relying on a few machines and a few dozen greenhouses..."

A little startled, Janeway looked at him. She had not heard his approach. Either Chakotay was extremely light-footed, or she was not as alert as she needed to be. She preferred to think it was the first, since the latter could easily get her killed on this mission.

"Yes, I bet those things are guarded and armed to the teeth. We should get moving from here. Who knows how many surveillance devices the Cardassians have installed to safeguard their food production technology..."

"Well, if Marlow is half the 'expert' that he claims to be, he should be able to enlighten us," Chakotay said with a slight smirk. His sarcasm did not go unnoticed. She rolled her eyes and ignored his comment. There was no point in encouraging Chakotay's antipathy towards Marlow. It was hard enough to keep the two men from going at each other's throats without spurring them on.

Janeway turned towards Ross Marlow.

"Mr. Marlow, do you know anything about the security details surrounding those replicators," Janeway asked pointing towards the capital at the large industrial structures. She was surprised at how neutral her voice sounded, as if she were indeed talking to an expert and not to the man who had spent the past few hours insulting and assaulting her.

Marlow approached and nodded. Janeway felt herself tense as he got closer. Immediately her hand went to hover over the phaser that was attached to her waist, just in case... Marlow either had not noticed her reaction, or he ignored it. He said,

"Yes. You're looking at about a hundred heavily armed guards per unit, all around top level shielding, land mines in the surrounding areas, automated defense perimeter."

Janeway frowned. Land mines? Automated defense perimeter? It sounded a little too dangerous for comfort.

"How much distance do we have to keep from the structures to avoid triggering the defense perimeter or the mines," she continued. Marlow considered her question for a moment.

"We shouldn't be in any danger as long as we keep about a kilometer's distance from the replicators. It means we have to walk around the capital in a wide circle before actually going in, but believe me, you don't want to walk into one of those mines, Captain."

Janeway nodded courtly. So far Marlow seemed to be cooperating. She had expected him to be more difficult after all that had transpired between them, but he was all professional, now that they were on Cardassian soil, so to speak. Despite the man's aggressive tendencies he seemed to be able to keep a clear head when the situation would allow no less. It was encouraging. But she would still keep a close eye on the man. How did the old adage go? 'Fool me once, shame on you! Fool me twice, shame on me!'  
And Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager had no intention of trusting Ross Marlow ever again.

She looked around their small group.

They had all donned the black monk's robes and equipped themselves with the bare essentials for an away mission. Emergency rations, hand phasers, tricorders and combadges, although the latter could only be used in an absolute emergency, since a comm-signal would easily have been spotted by Cardassian ground sensors. In order to contact the ship they would have to rely on the low bandwidth subspace transmitter the rebels had used to contact Voyager earlier. Now they had to walk about one and a half kilometers to reach the main plaza, or to be exact, right in the main building of Central Command where Dunar and a few of his men would rendezvous with them. Janeway had been more than a little surprised to find that the coordinates lay in such a strategic place. She had no idea of how they were going to get into the building, but she would cross that bridge when she got to it. Maybe Dunar was wise to hide literally in the lair of the beast. After all, who would expect it? Still, it seemed awfully risky for a secret meeting....

Janeway took a last hesitant look at the shuttle, or rather the indentation it made in the field, for the shuttle itself was not to be seen. Then she steeled herself and said,

"We've got a long way to go in the next ninety minutes. I suggest we get on our way."

And so they went, Janeway first, followed closely by Marlow and Chakotay to either side, and Tom Paris trailing a short distance behind.

They had walked for about thirty minutes when they reached the borders of the capital. Walking across the field had taken a little longer than expected, since the soil was soft, and their boots kept sinking into the ground, thus making walking difficult. In the distance, somewhere near the industrial replicators, something howled. Janeway shivered involuntarily. She knew what animal had made that sound. She had killed one of the damn things in the past. The bloodthirsty canine creature would have torn her and Justin apart if she had not killed the beast. Toskanar dogs were used for only two things: dog fights and the chase of escaped prisoners. Thirteen years ago Justin Tighe and a small group of Starfleet Rangers had rescued her and Admiral Paris from certain death and probably worse things than that. She and Justin had barley been able to escape the gaping fangs of their vicious houndlike pursuers. She remembered the panic she had felt then as if it had happened yesterday. Justin, of course, had long been dead. It had taken her years to properly get over his and her father's loss on Tau Ceti Prime. But this was no time to indulge in her old guilt complex and the usual _what-ifs_. Right now she had to concentrate on this mission, or there would be many more casualties, and this time it really would be her fault. The Toskanar howled again.

"What the hell is that thing," Tom Paris asked.

"Toskanar dogs," Janeway answered grimly.

"Well, I hope they're not as nasty as they sound," Tom quipped.

"No. They're worse," Janeway informed him.

Tom moved closer to her, so he did not have to raise his voice so much.

"Sounds like you have some experience with them."

Janeway did not look at him, for fear that he might see in her eyes just how much the mere thought of those creatures scared her. She simply said,

"That was a long time ago, Mr. Paris. I suggest we concentrate on the present."

_Smoothly done, Captain_, Marlow thought with an evil twinkle in his eye. He had studied her past to the smallest detail. He even knew such intimate things as the fact that her father used to call her 'Goldenbird' as a child. Ross Marlow knew exactly just how much experience with the dogs Kathryn Janeway had. He was well aware that, due to her former experiences with the Cardassians, this mission was scaring the hell out of her. And that knowledge gave him a certain amount of satisfaction, although not nearly enough to appease him. On top of that she was doing a damn good job at hiding her anxiety. But that would change...

Quietly they proceeded deeper and deeper into the capital. The main plaza was located right in the center of the city. Around them the streets grew busier the closer they got to the city center. Some people shot them a few curious glances, but most of the population ignored the four Delphidian monks whose features lay hidden under the large hoods of their black cloaks. Hands folded in front of them, and heads down, they approached the heart of the capital in total silence and at a steady but unhurried pace.

The main plaza was buzzing with life. It was market day. In the center of the square traders sold everything from vegetables and delicacies to antiques and jewellery. Street artists were drawing portraits of passers by, and Cardassians of all ages crowded around baskers who kept everyone entertained -- some with music, some with dance and others with pantomime. Kathryn Janeway had never seen Cardassians in their natural habitat before. She had only ever run into them in combat, far away from their families and their homeworld.

A group of children noisily descended the long stairs of a large and magnificent building to the South of the plaza. She had never seen Cardassian children before. It was strange to see their innocent and carefree faces. They did not look like enemies at all... Janeway recognized the building they had just exited as the Cardassian Institute of Art, one of the Empire's most distinguished institutions. Under different circumstances she would have taken the opportunity to study Cardassian art. Kathryn Janeway loved art. She even painted a little herself whenever she got the time. But this was neither the time nor the place for cultural studies.

Janeway's gaze turned toward the opposite site of the plaza. Another imposing building stood there. How strange for a society to have their cultural heart so close to their military center. However, the buildings were directly opposed to each other. Creativity to one side, destruction to the other. The Central Command building was housing a special exhibition of ancient Cardassian armory for a limited amount of time. Today was the final day of. A sign just below the roof invited citizens to visit the exhibition. Dunar was no fool. It was an easy way for the away team to get in.

A rather fresh wind had set in, making it unexpectedly chilly. On top of that it was beginning to rain. Janeway resisted the urge to pull the cloak closer around her form as the artists packed up their musical instruments and covered their canvasses. The away team moved further to the north of the plaza, and formed a close circle around a small table that offered tiny pieces of some kind of cake for tasting. They pretended to try the cake. The Captain spoke first,

"We're going to rendezvous with Dunar's people in there."

She indicated at the large building to the north.

"But I'm not going to take all of us in there. It's too dangerous. Mr. Marlow and I will meet with Dunar. Chakotay, you and Tom are going to stay out here. If we're not back within fifteen minutes you'll contact Voyager and beam up if necessary."

Chakotay protested,

"You can't be serious, Kathryn. You're not going in there with that man. You can't possibly trust him!"

Janeway hushed her voice a little more, and her tone left no room for debate.

"Mr. Chakotay, this is no time for a tactical discussion. If you've got a problem with my command decisions, follow Tuvok's example and file a report!"

He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue. His temper was rising, and if he were not careful he would give them all away. After all, no one in his experience had ever seen Delphidian monks argue -- at least not in public. And the things he had to say he could not possibly whisper. He wanted to shout some sense into her. But she was the captain, and by now he knew her well enough to know that once she had gotten something into her head she was not easily dissuaded.

Tom held his tongue as well. It was hardly his place to criticize the captain's leadership, but he did fear for her safety. There was something about Marlow that made him want to punch the man's lights out. Marlow was bad news. He had met his kind in the prison colony in New Zealand. Most of them had been traitors...but then people had called him, Tom Paris, the same thing. And he would hardly think of himself on the same level as Ross Marlow. Sure, he had done some pretty horrible things in the past, but he liked to think that there was still at least one ounce of decency left in him. Marlow had none. Despite the fact that Janeway had tried to keep the incident in the briefing room secret, news of Marlow's threats and physical attack on her had gone around the ship at warp speed. What kind of a creep was that guy?

Tom and Chakotay watched intently as Janeway and Marlow made their way towards Central Command. They kept watching until the two black cloaks had disappeared through the large entrance doors that lead to the armory exhibition. Then Chakotay said,

"Com'on, Paris. Lets mingle. We're way too suspicious standing here, staring at those doors."

They were just about to take a look at some of the other market stalls when Chakotay stepped on something solid. It cracked under his boots. He stepped aside. On the floor lay a Starfleet padd, the screen slightly cracked. It had probably fallen out of Janeway's cloak. He quickly picked it up. If a Cardassian found Federation equipment here, they would no doubt immediately alert the authorities. The Maquis leader was just about to tuck the padd into his cloak, when he caught a glimpse of something on the damaged screen. It was a map of the Central Command building. Kathryn could not possibly have such detailed knowledge of the building. This looked more like Starfleet Intelligence material. The padd had to be Marlow's. A small red dot marked a chamber that looked like a control room. Out of curiosity Chakotay pressed a button on the padd and the next page appeared. A view of the planet from space. The orbital defense perimeter could be seen, but what startled him were the red dots scattered all over the planet. Chakotay waved Paris over and they both stared at the padd. Chakotay zoomed in on the position were a few red crosses were congregated near the capital. Suddenly it struck him. The dots marked the positions of the aerponic environments and the industrial replicators they had seen on their way into the city. This padd contained some kind of an attack plan. But why attack? They were here on a rescue mission, right? Chakotay pushed another button on the padd and the next page appeared. It contained detailed instructions on how to access the controls to Cardassia Prime's orbital defense perimeter. But as far as Chakotay knew the controls could only be accessed through a central computer system, which was located somewhere in the basement of Central Command...

Suddenly his heart lurched and a wave of nausea hit him. His gaze swung onto the doors through which Marlow and Janeway had disappeared. The man had no intention of helping the resistance. His real reason for being here was not a rescue mission, but a mission of destruction and annihilation. Marlow intended to destroy the Cardassian food production industry, so that the population would starve to death unless help could be found. But even if that help could be found, Cardassia would have a hard time recovering from such a blow. Replacement technology would have to come from forces outside the Cardassian Empire, such as the Federation, or more unlikely the Romulans, the Ferengi, etc. The economy of the planet would be in ruins. Certainly this would have an enormous impact on the balance of power in the Apha Quadrant. Cardassia would no longer be the formidable force it had been for centuries. The main powers in the known galaxy would be shared between the Romulans and the Federation. But why would Marlow want to do this? Was he working for himself? Was it an act of revenge against the people he had been spying on for nearly a decade? No one really knew how Marlow had fared during the years he'd spend with the Spoonheads. Did he hate them that much? Surely Starfleet would not authorize a mission like this...

"I knew the guy was a loony when I heard about his attack against Captain Janeway," Tom interrupted the silence.

Yes, why had he attacked Janeway? Was he indeed suffering from psychological instability, or was there something more to his mission? Maybe Janeway's decision to take the shuttle instead of the transporters had interfered with his original plans.... But why would that change anything? Unless... unless... Of course! Marlow could not allow the survival of witnesses of his evil deeds. If he indeed intended to access the main control room, Janeway would no doubt be there to see it, too. Even if they split up and he disappeared for awhile, she would no doubt add two and two together and connect the destruction of the Cardassia's food industry at the hands of the planet's own orbital defense system with Marlow's disappearance in the Central Command building. So he had to get rid of Janeway, which meant he would have to kill Chakotay and Paris, too. He would probably make the whole incident look like an accident... A malfunction in the transporters so there would be no witnesses! He had probably rigged the system somehow so that the patterns would be lost. Had he intended to kill the away team all along? And now Kathryn was alone with the madman... They needed to get to her, and fast!

Chakotay was just about to storm the Central Command building with Paris in tow, when the plaza was suddenly abuzz with Cardassian soldiers. They were converging on Central Command. Had Marlow been discovered? Holding their breaths Chakotay and Paris stood silently and watched the proceedings. Finally soldiers emerged from the building. They had taken a prisoner. Someone wearing a black cloak. Had Marlow got his comeuppance? The prisoner hung slumped between the two guards, obviously unconscious. The cloaks hood hung to the side, and strains of auburn hair blew in the wind. The prisoner was Kathryn Janeway!

She had run straight into Marlow's trap. Helpless Chakotay and Tom looked on as Kathryn was roughly dragged away by the guards. They could not help her. There were too many soldiers now. It would be a suicide mission. And although Chakotay would have happily died for Kathryn, there were more important things to think about right now. They had to stop Marlow from carrying out his mission of destruction....somehow!

Chakotay unclenched the fists he had formed in frustration and tapped the combadge that was hidden beneath his cloak.

"Chakotay to Voyager."

"Tuvok here!"

" We have an emergency! The captain has been arrested. Get Torres to check over the transporter system. It's probably been sabotaged. Then beam Paris and me up. I'll explain later. And please, don't take too long!"


	7. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 6

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 6 

Dunar was growing impatient. Voyager's away team was already five minutes overdue for the planned rendezvous, and it was not like Starfleet to be late, especially in matters as risky and important as this one. Surely they understood the urgency of the situation? The entire resistance movement was assembled in the basement of the Cardassian Institute of Art. Parents were desperately trying to keep their children quiet. The crowd was growing nervous. There were simply too many people for such a confined space, and the musty smell of the stale air in the abandoned basement did not help.

But there was another, far larger problem. Dunar had not mentioned it to any of the others yet, and he doubted that anyone else had noticed. One member of his cell was missing. Zarel had failed to turn up. It worried him more than he would care to admit. Zarel had never agreed to this plan in the first place. But now Dunar suspected that she might have had other reasons for her rejection of this operation rather than just the customary xenophobic feelings against the Federation. He was not a man to easily jump to conclusions, but he had the nagging feeling that the traitor among the resistance had resided right under his nose all along.

Could Zarel be that traitor? He knew very little about her. She had never been one to openly discuss her past. That in itself was a little suspicious since resistance members usually found comfort in telling each other the stories of their individual struggles against the oppressive government. Zarel however had always been quiet and reserved, a loner.

A cold shudder went down his spine as he thought of the implications if she really were the traitor among them. She knew about this meeting. She could have given their plan away to the authorities. As a matter of fact the basement could be swarming with soldiers any minute now. It was a risk too great to take. Voyager's away team was now seven minutes late. He could no longer afford to wait for them. He had to act now to protect himself, his family and the entire resistance movement.

Uncomfortably he cleared his throat to get his people's attention.

"Friends, I believe something has gone wrong. We cannot afford to wait here any longer. We must leave this place now. A member of my cell is missing and I have reason to doubt her loyalties. I suggest we make our way out of here as quickly as possible..."

That was when the sounds of disruptor shots carried dully from the surface into the basement. Immediately a mad panic broke out in the basement. Everyone at once was trying to get out of the small opening that lead into the sewers. Dunar's heart froze. In the current pandemonium he was helpless to stop the panic. He grabbed hold of his wife and his children and joined the queue to the sewers. What the hell had happened up on the surface? He helped his son, daughter and wife climb through the opening and then began to follow them down himself. He had just made it when the old barricaded door to the basement exploded. Guards stormed the small cavern and disruptor shots were fired. He heard the screams of the women, children and men who had put their trust in him. If only he had put the pieces of the puzzle together just a few minutes sooner... They could all have been saved. If only...

His wife's hand pulling urgently on his sleeve jolted him back to reality. There would be plenty of time for 'what ifs' later, but for now he had to get his family out of here...

Kathryn Janeway sat on the hard bunk in her cell, clenching her jaws to keep her teeth from shattering. The cell was chilly and the guards had taken her cloak away from her. She had no doubt the cold in the cell was artificially and quite deliberately generated. After all, the climate on Cardassia Prime was usually several degrees warmer than that on Earth. However, her cell increasingly began to fell like an icebox.

Kathryn sat hugging herself in her thin black cat suit. What the hell had happened out there? And where was Marlow? Had he escaped? She had gone over the events at the armory exhibition again and again, but nothing seemed to fit. It just did not make any sense. Surely if they had arrested one person in a monk's attire they would have spotted and stopped the other... He must have escaped somehow. It was just as well that they had split up a few minutes before her arrest; otherwise the guards would have had two prisoners in their possession now. Or maybe even four. She could only hope that Chakotay and Tom had escaped. The fact was, she was the only prisoner here. That was encouraging.

Marlow had wanted to take a look at the basement. Apparently there were some files that he had to retrieve for Starfleet Intelligence. Kathryn had nodded and let him go, whilst pretending to be a tourist interested in the exhibition. She did not have to pretend all that much. The armories had been impressive. In style they were very similar to their terran equivalents of Earth's medieval period, but they were several millennia older. Amazingly they were very well preserved, proudly displayed on constantly rotating turntables within carefully illuminated glass cabinets. At the press of a button a voice would recite the respective exhibit's origin and history. It was really quite sobering to think that the Cardassian culture was so much older than human civilization. There had been a time when the Cardassians had been a people who valued fine art as their highest quality. Unfortunately history had taken an ugly turn, which had changed these people into the xenophobic sadists they now were. Not that everyone on Cardassia Prime fell into that category. That was why she was here -- to help those who thought and felt differently, those who wanted Cardassia to change back to the old ways of culture and peace, she reminded herself.

From the corner of her eyes she constantly scanned the room, growing more and more impatient as no one approached her. Where was Dunar? Punctuality was of the utmost importance here. There was no room for error. So why was he nowhere to be seen? Was this a trap? Had Dunar been discovered? Too many questions and as usual very few answers.

Then all hell had broken loose. Two-dozen Cardassian military guards had stormed the exhibit, all pointing their disruptor rifles directly at Janeway. Her heart stopped. Someone had betrayed their mission. She suspected it must have been a member of the resistance. Probably the same person who in recent weeks had sent so many members of the underground movement to their deaths. She should have been better prepared for such a case, she thought, angry at her own miscalculation of the risks involved in this mission. There had been no way out. All she had been able to do was to surrender.

The guards had stripped her of her cloak and recognized her as human, which in itself was reason enough to get arrested on Cardassia Prime. They had grabbed her and roughly escorted her out of the building. When she asked where they were taking her they stopped and started beating her with the butts of their disruptor rifles. Prisoners were not supposed to ask questions or even address their guards. That was a lesson she had learned painfully. Once they had arrived at what she presumed was some kind of a prison, she had been asked to remove her clothes. When she refused they had stripped her, an experience she certainly could have done without. She made a mental note to cooperate more willingly the next time she would be asked to undress. Then she had been submitted to several DNA tests as well as a retinal scan, all standard procedure in the Cardassian justice system. Afterwards the guards had thrown her into this small cell and amused themselves by resuming their earlier assaults on Janeway, spurring each other on, beating her brutally and when she hit the floor hard, finally kicking her with their heavy military boots. From her former experiences with the Cardassians both as Ensign and six months ago as Captain in her second encounter with Gul Camet she fully expected them to rape her, but for some reason they only gave her a good beating. When she lay unmoving on the ground, no longer able to show resistance, they had stopped and left her bare body sprawled over the cold stone floor, blood trickling from her mouth and nose.

She had made a quick assessment of the damage. Janeway was certain she had several broken rips, a fractured nose and jaw, sprained or maybe broken wrists from the feeble attempts to cover herself against the unforgiving blows, and cuts and bruises all over her body. Every bone ached, and by the way her head throbbed she suspected a possible concussion. The contents of her stomach had forced itself up, and she had fought to move away from the puddle of sick on the floor right next to her head. Shivering from the cold she had eventually managed to pick herself up and had dragged herself onto the hard bunk at the rear of the tiny cell. They had left some new clothes on the bunk, but she did not have the energy to put them on. Every move was so painful that she almost blacked out. Eventually she had managed to wrap herself in the brown blanket that came with the bunk. Now she kept as still as possible to avoid any greater pain. There was nothing she could do right now but wait for whatever was to come her way...

Intruder alert claxons bellowed all around and the door he had come through began to slide shut automatically as did the other seven access ports to the central computer room. The controls were locked out. He would have been trapped had he not foreseen this situation as one of many possible complications. Ross Marlow always had an escape route. That's what made him so good at his job. He had never been caught. Then again if he had, he would be dead by now. Marlow pulled his tricorder out of a pocket in his cloak and pressed a few buttons. Then he attached the tricorder to his belt and pressed one more button. He vanished an instant before the doors to the central control room burst open and a barrage of soldiers stormed the place. Marlow let put a silent sigh of relief and watched them interestedly as they searched for evidence of intrusion. They found none. As always his work had been flawless. However there was a very small chance that the soldiers who were busily scanning the room might detect the power output of his cloaking device. So he quietly slipped passed his nemesis through one of the doors, which were now wide open and escaped up the stairs and out of the building onto the market place. He was just in time to see a garrison of soldiers drag off Kathryn Janeway. So she had been captured. It was a minor complication since he had intended for her to die in a transporter accident, but the result would eventually be the same. She would stand trial and be executed. An evil grin spread across his hidden features. Maybe he would attend the execution cloaked. It would be far more satisfying to watch her die slowly at the hand of the Cardassian whose torture was feared across the quadrant and further. Yes, it would be a lot more entertaining than simply watching her perish in a transporter accident. He wanted few things more than seeing Kathryn Janeway suffer. This mission was getting better and better...

She must have been lying on the bunk for about half an hour at most when the door to the prison opened with a loud metallic clank, heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. The door to her cell sprung open and two Cardassian guards entered the tiny room. They told her to get dressed. Janeway unfolded the clothes that still lay on the bunk and tried to put on the black trousers and matching tunic, but the guards grew impatient. In the end one of them held her upright, while the other pulled the clothes over her body. The pain was almost too much. Without any regard to her injuries they then grabbed hold of her and half carried, half dragged her out into a labyrinth of corridors. Janeway thought she was going to pass out from the intense pain her injuries caused her, a pain now magnified many times through movement. The guards were non-too gently leading her through the prison and into a darkened room. In the middle of the room stood a single chair, lit brightly by a small, yet unusually bright spot light. An interrogation chamber. She could not see anything or anyone else in the room, since the rest of the room lay in complete darkness. The guards sat her onto the chair, fastening her arms and legs to it with metallic restraints. Janeway cried out as one of the guards roughly manhandled her broken wrists, forcing the swollen tissue around the fracture into the metal restraints. Then they left.

For a long moment the room lay in absolute silence. The pain the sudden movement had caused her injured body slowly ebbed. Many minutes passed and the room remained pitch black and silent. Was she alone? She thought it unlikely. She strained her ears and thought that she could hear someone breathing somewhere in front of her. But she couldn't be sure...

Suddenly a male voice emanating from the darkness spoke,

"You may see to her injuries now, Dr. Lovok."

Out of the shadows stepped a Cardassian man of advanced age, pushing a table with medical equipment in front of him. He ran a handheld Cardassian medical scanner along the length of her body, and then administered a hypospray to the side of her neck. Seconds later the pain in her body lessened a little, reaching almost bearable levels. Then he began to treat her broken bones one by one with a cortical regenerator. This took a while, especially along the area of her rips. Finally she felt that she could breathe again without experiencing a sharp pain each time her lungs filled or emptied themselves. The doctor continued to work on her, never uttering a single word. When he had finished healing her cuts and bruises with a dermal regenerator he stood back.

The voice in the darkness said,

"Human, do you confess your crimes against the Cardassian Empire?"

Well, they certainly seemed to be in a hurry. Confess? What crimes was she supposed to have committed?

Janeway steeled herself and asked,

"And what crimes might that be?"

"Do you confess?" the voice repeated calmly, almost bored.

"I can't confess if I don't know what I'm confessing to."

A short sigh followed, then without further questioning the voice ordered,

"Lovok, proceed with the molar extraction!"

Janeway felt a surge of panic go through her as she recalled the Cardassian custom of removing the molar teeth of each and every citizen and prisoner, so that they could be filed. It was a system devised for identification purposes, not unlike taking fingerprints, retinal scans and DNA tests, only far more painful. She had heard of Federation citizens being subdued to this procedure whilst in Cardassian custody. Miles O'Brien of Deep Space Nine and formerly the Enterprise had probably been the most notorious Starfleet officer ever to experience this. She remembered reading a report in which he had stated that on prisoners the molar extraction was performed without sedation. It was the start of the standard torture routine that the Cardassian military had devised for its captives.

Dr. Lovok approached, holding what looked like a crude pair of pliers in his hands. Janeway felt the palms of her hands grow moist. The two guards reappeared out of the darkness and fastened her head to the back of the chair with the help of a metal contraption that was attached to the high back of the chair. Obviously this chair had been designed with a very specific purpose in mind.

Kathryn pulled against the metal restraints but there was no budging them. Her head was held firmly in place. Her eyes grew wide with panic as four automated metallic bolts, two on either side of her head, shot out of the contraption and forced apart her jaws which were still tender from the recent fractures. The memory of the pain her broken jaw had caused was still fresh. She had no desire to experience it again any time soon, and so she tried to put up as little fight as possible as the inevitable molar extraction began. She soon discovered that the painkiller she had been given earlier had worn off...

Tuvok had assembled the senior staff plus Chakotay and Tom Paris in the briefing room. Chakotay had filled them in on Marlow's betrayal and his plans to destroy the Cardassian food industry which the Cardassians sorely relied on since Cardassia Prime was a basically a barren planet devoid of soil nutrients. There was no doubt that the destruction of all its industrial replicator would spell disaster for Cardassia. They would be at the mercy of the galaxy so to speak, at best relying on the charity of the Federation and at worst be conquered by the Klingons or the Romulans. Such an event would inevitably result in an imbalance of power in the Alpha Quadrant and that meant only one thing: war. And the Federation might loose such a war.

B'Elanna Torres and Lieutenant Carey both certified that the transporters had been sabotaged to cause a malfunction, which neither member of the away team would have survived. Tuvok had studied Marlow's padd and come to the same conclusions as Chakotay: the man was out to destroy Cardassia. However, no one new exactly why. Even the Maquis would not go thus far in their hate for the Cardassians.

But the one matter that occupied their minds above all was how to help the Captain.

"How do we even know she is still alive?" Harry asked dejectedly, obviously deeply distraught by the loss of the Captain.

"We don't," Tuvok said in typically logical manner. "However it would be irrational of them to kill her without first attempting to extract strategical information."

Chakotay nodded in agreement.

"Tuvok's right. She'd be far more valuable to them alive although I have no doubt that they plan to kill her eventually."

Tom Paris stood up and paced in front of the viewscreen of the conference room.

"So how're we going to help her? Or are we just going to sit here wasting time while Janeway rots away in some Cardassian prison? They're probably torturing her right this moment or worse."

Chakotay put a calming hand on Tom's shoulder,

"Tom, we all know what the Cardassians are capable of. There is no reason to dwell on it. We are all worried about her, but she is strong. She'll manage to stay alive for awhile."

Tuvok stood up,

"I suggest we try to determine where they are holding the Captain. Then we can form a rescue plan. Mr. Kim, scan all local channels on the planet for reports of her capture. I will have Mr. Marlow's quarters searched for any additional information on his mission and any Cardassian strategical information he might have withheld from us. Ms. Torres, Mr. Carey, you will perfect the cloaking device on the shuttle. It appears we will need to put Captain Janeway's plan B in motion after all. Mr. Chakotay and Mr. Paris, you will join me in the Ready Room. Dismissed."

Warily everyone got up and went their separate ways.

Mercifully Janeway had passed out before the final tooth had been fully extracted. When she woke up next, she found herself still sitting in the chair, her restraints removed, except for those that bound her arms and legs to the chair. Her face felt as if it had swollen to three times its normal size, and a stream of blood and saliva continued to trickle out of her mouth and onto her clothes. Her head was heavy, and while she had been unconscious it had dropped onto her chest causing her muscles and ligaments to cramp and strain so that she could barely move her neck now.

She heard the voice again, but was too dazed to make out any words. All she knew was that the Cardassian doctor administered another hypospray. Slowly the pain subsided until her face was completely numb.

"It wouldn't be much use asking you questions if you cannot speak to answer," the voice said with what might have been a tinge of humor.

She still couldn't see anything. Dr. Lovok disappeared and the voice continued,

"What is your name?"

Janeway refused to answer.

"Kathryn Janeway, I strongly advise you to cooperate, or you may not get out of here alive."

Kathryn fixed her eyes on the part of the room from where the voice seemed to emanate.

"Are you trying to tell me that I have a choice? I don't believe you'll let me out of here alive whatever I say or do, so I suggest you get on with whatever you have to do and stop wasting both our time."

Her speech was slurred, the consonants barely distinguishable. It wasn't really surprising since she had been highly sedated and her jaws and cheeks were severely swollen. The mixture of saliva and blood continued to flow uncontrollably out of the corners of her mouth but she was way past caring about appearances. She felt feverish, her mind foggy. No doubt the crude molar extraction would cause an infection, if the broken bones had not already taken care of that.

The man in the darkness chuckled in response to her assessment of the situation. The he admitted,

"You are very perceptive, Captain. Naturally the Central Command cannot afford to let you go. As for myself, I would not want you to leave before I have had a chance to show you my very special kind of hospitality. I enjoy my job too much to let a prisoner, especially one as high profile as you, slip out of my hands. But you can spare yourself a lot of pain by answering my questions. Of course I'll still torture you, but it will be a very brief affair if you cooperate -- hours instead of days. The choice is entirely yours."

She had not fallen for this speech when she was an Ensign; she certainly wouldn't now that she was a Captain.

Her captor paused briefly for emphasis, then continued,

"So, what where you doing on our beautiful homeworld, Kathryn Janeway?"

"Taking in the sights," she replied without hesitation.

She could hear a sharp movement from him. He obviously did not like her answer much. It gave her a small feeling of triumph over whoever he was, but it didn't last for long.

"I see your sense of humor hasn't left you yet. That will soon change. But a word of advice: let me tell you that it is not very well applied here. Lovok, you may go now."

His tone had switched from bored to mildly amused.

Somewhere in the room she could here the doctor move. Then she heard a door clank shut. She and the man in the darkness were alone now. Janeway had a sense of foreboding. Something told her that as long as the doctor had been present she had been marginally safe. But now she was entirely at the mercy of whomever the man who belonged to the voice was. And that made her heart freeze with fear. On the outside however she remained the perfect picture of control.

"Once more, what were you doing on Cardassia Prime?" Still boredom, but was it real or just a clever way of interrogation devised to taunt her?

"I was brushing up on Cardassian history," she replied. She could give as good as her opponent.

A chair was carelessly shoved aside and footsteps approached her. Apparently her opponent had had enough, so the earlier boredom must have been a facade. A large middle-aged Cardassian appeared out of the darkness, and before she knew what was happening he had slapped her hard across the face. She nearly passed out. Obviously the sedative was losing its effect. The man had considerable strength, and she realized that she would not last very long unless she changed tactics. Maybe she should make her lies less obvious, or the next time he might very well break her neck with one blow of his hand. She wasn't ready to die yet.

"What were you doing on Cardassia Prime, Kathryn," he asked once again, his voice unchangedly calm, as if this were the first time he had asked her the question. He was a professional, totally in control of both his victim and himself. When she did not answer straight away, he struck her again, this time across the other cheek. Not having anticipated this blow, she groaned at the unexpected rush of pain. Before she could answer his question he had struck her again, and again, and again, seemingly spurred on by the slight moans and whimpers that escaped her tight control. And as she was about to find out, he was only getting started...

_Hold on_, she told herself as he struck her again and again, feeling blissful unconsciousness approaching. But he wasn't going to give her the opportunity to pass out yet. Just when she felt reality recede from her he administered a hypospray to her neck. Immediately the pain lessened slightly and she felt a nervous energy course through her veins, almost like a caffeine overdose.

"Are you ready to answer my questions now?" her Cardassian tormentor asked, his voice still as calm as if he were discussion the weather.

Kathryn squinted at him through bloodstained and swollen eyelids. Her skin was glistening with perspiration, blood and tears she hadn't even known she had shed. If only she were allowed to pass out for a moment, she might be able to hold on. But with the amount of pain he was inflicting upon her body in addition to the constant drugging to keep her just this side of awareness she wasn't sure she would last another minute without blurting out every bit of confidential information Starfleet Command had ever let her in on. She just wanted the pain to stop. If he carried on she was sure it wouldn't be long until she would betray her own mother, not to mention Starfleet and the Maquis. Her only hope was that she might die before she reached that level. After all, there were only so many drugs the human body could take in without going into cardiac arrest...

He placed his hands onto her tied arms and looked straight into her eyes, stroking her tear-streaked cheek with the back of his hand,

"Kathryn, you can end this now." His voice seemed to caress her skin. She diverted her face from him signaling clearly that she was not ready to talk.

The man activated his Cardassian communicator,

"Kressik to Lovok! Return to the interrogation chamber at once!"

Kressik.... So now the enemy had a name. What devious plan was forming in his evil mind? Why was he calling the doctor back?

Kressik leaned over her spoke softly into her ear,

"We can't leave a beautiful woman like you in such a shambles now, can we. Not before I have enjoyed that beauty thoroughly..."

Despite her exhaustion a cold shiver went down her spine. Was that what he had in mind for her next? Rape? And then what? Would she surrender to such torture? Unlikely, considering what she had already been through. Perhaps he was bluffing. But no, Kressik definitely wasn't the bluffing kind. He meant what he said. Every word of it.

The door to the torture chamber opened and Lovok appeared in the spotlight.

"Fix her up and take her back to her cell!", Kressik ordered, before he disappeared from the room.

The doctor cleaned her up, healed her wounds, dressed her in a fresh prisoner's uniform and gave her another sedative. He was like a robot. There was no emotion in his face. Any Federation doctor would have been appalled at the injuries that had been inflicted on her. What kind of a work ethic did this man have?

"Tell me," Janeway addressed him, "do you enjoy fixing up his victims?" He gave her a look that was devoid of any emotion. Then he continued his work.

"Is this what you went to medical school for? Does your mother know what her son is earning a living with? Do you think you're making her proud?" Janeway continued to taunt him.

Suddenly he looked up and opened his mouth as if to say something, however the only sound that escaped was a prime-evil guttural moan. And then she saw. It was only brief, but her eyes had caught it. Lovok's tongue had been cut out. Had Kressik done this to him so that he would never been able to tell of the things he saw in this prison? Sympathy spread across her features and their eyes briefly connected in what might have almost been kinship, but the moment passed so quickly that she was not sure she had not simply imagined it.

After he had fixed her up Janeway had been taken back to her small cell. Whereas she had seen it as a prison before it had now become a welcome sanctuary. Her she could rest free from pain -- well, not entirely, but at least no one was adding to it here. She knew she should try to stay awake and come up with some sort of an escape plan, but she was so tired, her mind clouded by a near lethal cocktail of painkillers, artificial stimulants and sedatives. All she wanted to do right now was close her eyes. She wrapped the brown blanket around her form and fell into a deep sleep.


	8. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 7

The Evil That Breeds Within 

The Sequel to "Yesterday's Terrors"

Chapter 7 

Kathryn slowly drifted through the thick fog of sedatives and painkillers. Her mouth was sore and she had a headache with the intensity of a supernova. The closer she moved towards consciousness the more pain she felt. Protectively her mind kept withdrawing into the fog. If only the fog were not so cold. It made her shiver... She drew the brown blanket tighter around her body and instantly regretted her movement. She should have remained still because now a wave of nausea hit her as her body tried to expel the remaining drugs in her system. Instantly she was hit by another sensation. Her throat burned as if it were on fire. She peeked hesitantly through a narrow slit in her eyelids and was instantly rewarded by a sharp pain in her head, followed by bile rising from her stomach. Kathryn lent over the side of the bed until the retching subsided, an unnecessary precaution on her part since her stomach had been empty for at least twenty-four hours. When she came back up she froze briefly, her eyes still fixed on the ground. The hairs in the back of her neck stood up straight. She had the uncanny feeling that she was not alone. Slowly she lifted her head and allowed her eyes to adjust to the small amount of light that fell into the cell. At the foot of her bed Kressik sat in a chair, watching her with the same mock boredom his voice had held during her interrogation.

Janeway wanted to confront him and opened her mouth, but no words would come out. Instead a powerful coughing fit overcame her until tears were streaking down her cheeks. She vaguely noticed that Kressik had moved. Suddenly he was next to her, offering a glass of cold water. He held it for her, supporting the back of her head with his free hand, and she drank eagerly. Exhausted she lay back and closed her eyes for a short moment until she felt his hand circling over her thigh through the blanket. Instinctively she pulled away, but there really was nowhere to go. The hand followed her, starting to caress her knee through the rough fabric, then moving higher. Kressik's hand reached the end of the blanket, which was wrapped around her waist and pulled it off her in one fast movement. Kathryn jumped slightly but then caught herself. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Instead she steeled herself and glared into his eyes, her eyes communicating her contempt for the man in whose power she now found herself.

Meanwhile the Cardassian took in the soft feminine curves that showed through the coarse material of Janeway's prison tunic. His pupils began to dilate with pure and undisguised lust. His glance went from her chest to her delicate collarbone, so much more fragile than the pronounced collar cartilage of a Cardassian woman. His gaze continued to wander upwards, along her neck to her prominent jawbone and to blood covered and split lips. He recoiled a little at the thought of having to kiss her in her current state. She may be a beautiful human female, but there was no seeing past the fact that she was filthy, covered in her own perspiration, blood and saliva and quite possibly vomit. The hand that had been exploring the area around her ribs suddenly pushed her away and he sneered,

"You don't really think that I would touch you as filthy us you are! Guards!"

Heavy footsteps came down the corridor and two soldiers appeared in front of the cell.

"Get her cleaned up and bring her to me when you've finished!"

'Cleaning up' was almost a relief. Mercifully her Cardassian guards had remained discreetly outside the shower cubicle. Janeway had never liked the sonic shower much, but in her current state she welcomed it. It felt good to clean the grime and blood from her body. The doctor had done his job well. Once all the dirt had been removed there was no sign of the lacerations and bruises Kressik had inflicted on her. Unfortunately the guards proved themselves to be less than patient. Five minutes under the sonic shower was all they granted her. She was given a clean tunic and trousers and then escorted through the cold metal corridors of the prison to a door. Her feet were freezing causing her to shiver slightly, but she suppressed is as well as she could. She didn't want to give anyone the impression that she might be shivering with fear, which she wasn't. It took a lot more to shake Captain Kathryn Janeway.

One of the guards rang a doorbell for admittance. Kressik's voice came gruffly from the other side of the door,

"Come!"

Janeway was led into what looked like a large, private living area. Several battleship gray armchairs were strewn around a coffee table. The walls were covered in paintings of Cardassian origin depicting scenes of great battles both in space and on ground. She did not know enough about Cardassian art to determine which period they belonged to, but she thought they might be falling into the category of masterpieces.

The lights in the room were dimmed, lending it an almost cozy glow. Several cabinets lined the walls and a communications console stood to the right of the room. There were no windows. She gathered that the prison must be underground. The thick gray carpet felt good under her bare feet after the cold of the metal floors. After a moment the guards saluted their superior and were ordered to leave.

"Sit down, Captain," Kressik motioned to a comfortable looking armchair nearest to Janeway. Hesitantly she stepped towards it and sat. What was he up to this time? Why would he want to interrogate her in his quarters? Whatever he intended, she was sure it was bad news.

Her host's voice was relaxed, or was it? Was he really relaxed or was this just a show he put on for her benefit to confuse her further?

"May I offer you some kind of beverage? Some Kanar, or would you prefer coffee? I'm afraid I don't have the real thing but I can replicate it if you wish."

Janeway measured him carefully. He knew about her fondness for coffee. The Obsidian Order must have infiltrated Starfleet to a much higher level than they were aware of. Kressik quite obviously had access to her personnel file. All Captains' personnel files required clearance level nine or above which meant that no one under the rank of commander had access. _They must have moles in high places_, she thought absent-mindedly.

"I see you've done your homework, Kressik," was what she said.

A smug smile spread over the Cardassian man's face.

"Yes, indeed. Your personnel file made for a rather interesting read, Captain. It appears you have deserted Starfleet to join the Maquis. At least that's the conclusion I drew from the information I gathered. Six months ago your ship fell into Maquis hands and Starfleet has been looking for you ever since. I have scanned the surrounding sector for Voyager, however you seem to have arrived without your vessel, which leads me to my next question: How did you get here, Captain?"

The answer came out without a second thought,

"I arrived on a merchant vessel."

"Really? And how did you pass through customs, Captain? Oh, let me guess, you were disguised as a Terillian monk. No one ever asks them any questions since they lead such reclusive lives! Very clever, Captain, but not clever enough. We got you in the end."

All Janeway could think of was that someone in Starfleet had gone as far as to alter her records. Someone had taken the pretense far enough to make a false entry in her file marking her as a deserter to the Maquis. Had she known about it before she would have called it overkill, but maybe whoever had done so had been right. At least it would protect their mission. But it certainly wouldn't protect her. Now that Kressik assumed that she was no longer connected with Starfleet, that she was no longer under their protection, he could do with her as he pleased without having to face any possible repercussions from the Federation. Why had no one told her that they had changed her personnel file? Neither Nechayev nor Marlow had ever mentioned it. Shouldn't she have been informed? Something about this did not sit right with her. The hairs in the back of her neck began to stand up.

A silence had descended over the city. All around the capital shutters were now closed, doors locked and lights switched off. Children were lying in their beds dreaming peacefully, clutching their soft toys to them. Outside the creatures of the night slowly dared to come out of their hiding places. Voles, the fierce Cardassian version of the Terran rat, crawled out of the sewers to find themselves some food amidst the trash on the now abandoned market place, in the streets and around garbage disposal units. Hawk-like birds flew through the dark sky, their cries traveling eerily through the night, their silhouettes casting shadows against the bright light of Cardassia's two moons. But the indigenous rodents and predators of the night were not the only dark creatures that emerged.

Mysterious footsteps echoed through the back alleys. These alleys were mainly used for garbage disposal and even during the day the locals rarely used them. The footsteps seemingly had no owner for no one could be seen in their direction, but every now and then a print was left in the dirt, a stone or branch kicked aside by an invisible limb. Finally the footsteps stopped in front of a door that belonged to an   
old- fashioned bookshop. Nowadays books were collector's items, and the owner did not sell many of them. How he could hold onto his business, considering that he must be making more loss than profit, was a puzzle to everyone in the neighborhood. However the bookshop had been here for a good twenty years, opening every day at sunrise and always ready for customers, even if they only came maybe once a month and then mostly because they had lost their way and needed to ask for directions. The building, much like the books that were sold in it, was old and falling apart. The roof sported several holes, the windows and doors were drafty and the walls inside were damp. The owner was rarely seen outside the house since he complained of rheumatism, no doubt at least partially due to his living conditions. The children in the neighborhood liked to make up horror stories about the odd old man, painting him as a sorcerer or a monster. They were scared of him because he was mysterious and strange and on the rare occasions when he left his house he used an old wooden stick to help him walk. Even with the stick his walk was odd and had no particular rhythm to it. He moved with a crouch and was usually covered in an old cloak that hid his face until you were right in front of him. He never greeted anyone, he never smiled. No one knew where he had come from. He was a total recluse. Elderly citizens who had been living in the neighborhood for more than twenty years remembered the day when he had moved here. One morning they had gotten up and there he was, putting the sign up on the front of his shop. Some of the neighbors had popped into the store to introduce themselves, but they had found him to be rather rude and so they had left him in peace and never bothered him again.

At this late hour the old man's house, unlike all its neighbors, did not lie in complete darkness. A small ray of light emerged from a tiny octagonal window in the attic. The old man was always up late. His neighbors assumed that it was his obsessions for old books, which kept him up until the early hours of the morning; the children fancied he was casting evil spells on his fellow citizens. Both were mistaken.

An invisible hand knocked on the old wooden door since there was no doorbell. The old man was a traditionalist, opposed to modern technology or at least that's what he wanted people to believe. With uncharacteristical agility he made his way down the stairs and asked,

"Who 's there?"

Outside no one could be seen, however a voice out of nowhere answered,

"An old friend."

The old man unbolted the door and bode his invisible caller entry. He was not surprised that his guest could not be seen.

Ross Marlow dropped his personal cloak.

"It's good to see you're still alive, Marek."

"Likewise, Ross. I was expecting you. Nechaeyev alerted me to your presence here. I assume your mission was a success."

Marlow averted his eyes, seemingly studying his surroundings.

"There have been some minor complications, nothing serious," he mumbled.

The old man nodded understanding.

"I take it you want to use my transmitter to inform Nechayev of your status."

"Straight to the point as always! That's what I like about you, Marek. Yes, I need to contact Nechayev. Is your transmitter still in the same old spot?"

Marek confirmed that it was still stood in the attic. As a matter of fact he had been communicating with Admiral Nechayev not five minutes ago. She was anxious to hear from Marlow. Ross made his way up the narrow stairs to the attic room and contacted his superior while Marek went into the kitchen and prepared some light refreshments.

Nechaeyev was less than pleased with Marlow's report. She had assumed that the replicators had by now been destroyed, however so far nothing had been achieved, apart from the fact that Janeway was stuck in a Cardassian prison, which somewhat dampened the Admiral's anger at Marlow's failure. She had never liked Kathryn Janeway. That's why she had chosen her for this mission in the first place. Part of the plan had been to eliminate Janeway, a necessary step in order to prevent any information about this mission leaking out to Starfleet command or other sources. Nechayev had always seen Janeway as a rival. Deep down she knew that Kathryn was a better captain than Alyssa had ever been. She was fast moving towards admiralty. Such success in one so young was difficult to take for the woman who had struggled so hard to get where she was now. And to be honest, not all her promotions had been deserved. A good deal of bribery and corruption had gotten her into the position she occupied today.

But Janeway's capture alone was hardly satisfactory. Voyager was still under her team's command and that meant trouble. No doubt Captain Janeway's mixed Starfleet and Maquis crew would attempt a rescue. Also as long as Voyager's crew was still alive there was a danger not only to the mission, but also to Nechayev herself. If anyone in Starfleet ever found out that she was working for Section 31 it would mean the end of all she had worked for all these years. It could even be the end of Section 31. Too much was at stake. Marlow had to complete the mission somehow, but it was obvious that he could not do so alone. They needed to destroy Voyager and make sure that both Janeway and her crew was silenced for good. She would contact the head of the organization to ask for reinforcements. She needed ships to deal with Voyager. Janeway and the industrial replicators she would leave to Ross Marlow and order Marek to assist him if necessary. If Marlow failed again she would have to terminate him, and he knew as much. Failure was not an option in Section 31.

Chakotay and Paris sat opposite Tuvok at Janeway's Ready Room desk. Paris could have sworn that the Vulcan was feeling uncomfortable in the Janeway's chair. He thought he could see the cool Vulcan shift slightly every now and then. Did Vulcan's feel discomfort? If the situation had not been so serious he would have allowed himself a rather smug smile.

Tuvok began,

"Mr. Paris, you are our best pilot. You will fly the cloaked shuttle to the planet's surface and land it as close to Captain Janeway's position as possible. As soon as Mr. Kim has found where she is being held you will receive the coordinates."

Tom felt honored. He didn't think the Vulcan had any respect for him. Obviously he had been mistaken. Tuvok continued,

"Mr. Chakotay, I believe you have considerable experience in undercover operations against the Cardassians. My suggestion is that you lead the rescue team."

Chakotay and Paris both nodded their approval. Paris didn't like Chakotay much and vice versa, but they both had respect for the other's talents which is why they were able to work together in this case without falling straight at each other's throats. Chakotay had not forgotten Paris' betrayal, and Paris was acutely aware of Chakotay's hatred towards him. However in a situation such as this they were both willing to forget their differences.

Chakotay asked,

"How many people will the rescue team be comprised of?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow in an expression that could almost be construed as concern.

"I believe the smaller the team the better our chances of success. It will be difficult to conceal any of us on Cardassia. In my opinion only the two of you should go and only one of you should go after the captain while the other remains aboard the cloaked shuttle."

Paris frowned. Tuvok wanted Chakotay to go after the Captain all by himself? It would never work!

"He can't go single-handedly into a Cardassian prison, find the captain and drag her out of there! It's impossible!"

Tuvok remained calm as the conversation heated up. He countered,

"If my information is correct than Mr. Chakotay has performed similar miracles in the past. Am I right, Mr. Chakotay?"

Chakotay nodded. He had freed many of his fellow Maquis in the past, from prison asteroids, Cardassian space stations, enemy ships and even from Cardassian settlements on planets within the Demilitarized Zone. However to infiltrate a Cardassian prison on Cardassia Prime, the heart of the Cardassian Empire, was another matter. But Tuvok was right. The more of them went, the greater their chance of discovery. It was too risky. He would have to do this alone, and for Kathryn Janeway he would be willing to risk his life time and again.

"So, we are in agreement?"

Tuvok regarded the two unlikely candidates for this mission before him. One of them a convicted traitor freshly recruited out of a Federation prison, the other the leader of a Maquis cell, enemy of the Federation. But these were the best men for the job.

Both Paris and Chakotay agreed to Tuvok's plan. Tuvok was pleased but had another point to address before the end of their meeting.

"We do however have one other problem. Mr. Marlow is still on the planet. From what you both have told me I very much doubt that he has been captured like the Captain. I believe he will try again to disable the replicator system. If he is who I believe him to be, he will also do everything to destroy Voyager, her crew and Captain Janeway. He cannot risk for any of us to survive."

The men on the other side of the desk frowned partly in confusion and partly in concern.

"You believe he was working for someone?", Chakotay asked in disbelief. Until now he had assumed that Marlow was some kind of maniac, someone who's heart carried a great deal of hate for the Cardassian through being forced to live and collaborate with them for years in the capacity of undercover agent for the Federation. Someone who had seen so many atrocities that he hated the Cardassian's enough to want to destroy them. A feeling Chakotay could at least understand. But if he had not done this out of a feeling of personal revenge, than why?

"During my time with Starfleet Intelligence I heard many rumors of a rogue organization which has no official ties to Starfleet, however some of Starfleet's most influential men and women have been suspected of working for them. They call themselves Section 31. Officially they were commissioned by Starfleet in 2270 as a subsection to Starfleet Intelligence in order to search out and identify extraordinary dangers to the Federation. However soon after their commission they were often found to employ illegal techniques, which the Federation was not willing to back. They were the Federation's closest equivalent to the Tal Shiar or the Obsidian Order. Section 31 was officially decommissioned in 2298, however its members, most of which were unknown to Starfleet since the organization was run with such secrecy, secretly continued to operate. It is likely that they still exist. Mr. Marlow's mission fits in with their known operating patterns, which leads us to another problem. If Mr. Marlow is working for Section 31, then so is Admiral Nechayev. By now he has no doubt contacted her and informed her of his failure. Reinforcements could be on the way."

Paris blew air through his teeth. If these reinforcements were indeed on their way they would no doubt know of Voyager's cloak. They would have tactical information on how to locate the ship. Voyager's shields were down for as long as she remained cloaked. They were sitting ducks! Even if they were to drop the cloak, the Cardassian orbital defense system would immediately attack them. There was no way Voyager could withstand such force. The picture was not a pretty one. Paris sure hoped Tuvok had a plan, for he was out of ideas.

"So, do you have a plan, Tuvok?"

Before Tuvok had a chance to speak Chakotay said,

"Voyager will have to leave here. You'll have to hide her somewhere while Paris and I take the shuttle to the planet. We will need to rendezvous somewhere outside the sector. But then what? We have nowhere to go. With a ship this big we are going to light up on enemy sensors like a Christmas tree. We can't go back to the Federation because Nechaeyev will have told them that we are traitors. That's why she didn't want us to wear Starfleet uniforms or use Starfleet insignia."

Paris continued Chakotay's line of thought,

"So the Cardassian's are coming at us from this end and the Federation and this Section 31 are coming from the other side. Where the hell are we going to run?"

Tuvok rested his elbows on the desk and calmly folded his hands in Vulcan fashion until the five fingertips of one hand touched their counterparts on the other.

"That, Mr. Paris is something I have not yet found an answer for."

The sounds of heavy military boots following had finally subsided. Dunar had been able to save most of his people. Unfortunately this did not make him feel any better. He had lost almost twenty-seven; nine of them had been children. They had been executed on the spot. All of them had heard their screams followed by phaser blasts. Then there had been nothing but eerie silence.

For hours the soldiers had combed the sewers for them, but thanks to a device called an anti-thoron emitter, they had been able to fool the soldier's scanners. The device emitted a low-level radiation field around it, rendering conventional scanners useless.

Now with his people remaining in the sewers he had made his way out onto the surface to get the latest news from one of the public transmission monitors. What he saw there shocked him deeply. There was a short report about the capture of several members of the resistance movement inside the basement of the Cardassian Academy of Art, a list of names and an account of their deaths. But the report that followed was even more worrying. Captain Kathryn Janeway had been caught at their rendezvous point inside the Cardassian Museum of Art. Dunar's blind trust in Zarel had cost him dearly. Not only had many members of the resistance found their death through the traitor among his cell, but now this woman who had been willing to help them and who had been their last hope had been captured. She was scheduled to appear in court in three days and was accused of being an enemy spy. The punishment for this crime, he knew, was death.

In the Cardassian justice system there was no real trial in the sense of the trials of the Federation. A prisoner was found guilty long before they went to court. There was no chance of redemption, no chance of being proven innocent. The decision had already been made, the verdict already been decided. The trials were purely for show, to instill fear in the citizens of Cardassia or in this case to stir up patriotism in their already xenophobic souls. Kathryn Janeway was going to be tried and found guilty on that screen in three days. No doubt every screen in Cardassia would transmit her trial, and knew crowds would gather around all those monitors to watch her execution.

She didn't deserve this. It was all his fault and he would never forgive himself if he didn't find a way to help her. He would tell the others and tell them of Janeway and her capture. Maybe he could convince them to join him in his efforts to help her. Maybe together they would find a way to help her.

But as Dunar was thinking these words he knew he was fooling himself. Even if he could convince the resistance to help the Federation woman, if he could make them see past their xenophobic lookout once more, even then getting into the prison where she was held was impossible. It was an institution for political prisoners only, run by the Obsidian Order. They would keep a close eye on their most priced captive.

Kressik poured two glasses of Kanar and put one of them onto the table in front of Janeway.

"It is an acquired taste, but you should try it, Captain."

His mannerisms were those of a gracious host, but she knew better than that. Kathryn ignored the glass.

"I've tried it a few times, and I still don't like it," she replied coldly.

Kressik downed the entire contents of his glass in one gulp as if it were water. Even for a Cardassian used to the taste this was quite an achievement. Janeway remembered her last taste of the potent Cardassian wine only too well to repeat it this soon. She had hoped never to set eyes on the stuff again. The last time it had been forced upon her, it had left her in a desperate coughing fit and brought tears to her eyes.

Kressik refilled his glass and sat in a chair at the opposite end of the small coffee table. He studied her silently then he spoke almost charitably,

"Kathryn Janeway, allow me to tell you a secret. You are quite valuable as a prisoner. If you were willing to answer some of my questions, it may help in postponing your trial and subsequent execution. Until recently you were an influential member of Starfleet, a captain at such a young age. You have many secrets that we would like to know. In addition you have spent the last six months or so in the Maquis. You have strategical information about them that we are eager to know. The Maquis are causing our colonies in the DMZ quite considerable damage, you know. Maybe if you showed yourself cooperative, I might even get them to postpone your execution indefinitely."

He allowed his words some time to sink in. Janeway was staring at her glass of Kanar, seemingly thinking over his offer. Eventually her head rose to look at Kressik. A crooked smile full of contempt formed on her lips.

"You don't really expect me to believe that, do you? I'm not that gullible, Kressik."

She thought she momentarily saw his hand twitch in agitation, but then it subsided and a wicked smile spread across his features.

"You're right, Captain. I didn't think you'd fall for that story. However I do have other ways of extracting the information I want, as I'm sure you are aware."

Kathryn again fixed her eyes on the beverage in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kressik leave his seat and move around the table towards her position. Kathryn concentrated on the way the light broke through the amber liquid in her glass, on the rhythm of her breathing. She was damned if she was going to jump at his touch, and touch her he would, of that she was certain.

Kressik laid a hand on her shoulder, then brought his lips to her ear. She could smell his breath. He stank of Kanar and something else, probably something he had eaten, one she noticed around all Cardassians if she got close enough. Humans had a certain natural odor to them too, but Cardassians smelled more metallic.

"Have you ever experienced our neurological stimulator at first hand, Kathryn?" he spoke softly into her ear. She shuddered as she felt his breath against her skin. She was aware of this device he was talking about. Years ago Gul Camet had used it on Admiral Paris, and it had nearly driven the admiral mad. The old man had taken years to fully recover from the shock. The device was able to cause excruciating pain without the side effect of killing the victim. What Kressik had done to her in the interrogation chamber was nothing compared to what he could do once the device had been implanted into her body. Kathryn was not just afraid for her own sake. She was worried that she might break under such pressure. There was only so much the human body could take. She was sure that at some point she would be willing to tell him everything, about Voyager, about the Maquis and about Starfleet. She would rather kill herself. Unfortunately Starfleet didn't issue cyanide pills with its standard issue uniform. If she got out of this one she might suggest this to Starfleet Command, after all, the Obsidian Order had issued some sort of a device to its agents which could turn pain into pleasure, and the Tal Shiar had their own poison capsules to be used by agent if they thought they might talk under torture.

Her thoughts were drawn back to the present as she felt Kressik's hand move slowly from her shoulder to her neck. He traced a finger up her delicate neck bone to her ear and back. He proceeded to thread a curl of hair around his fingers, then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand before moving his lips down to her ear again,

"I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy your beauty before I destroy it, do you?"

She could think of several objections. On the other hand this might just win her some time if she could only turn the situation around. An idea popped into her head, and although she didn't think it had much chance of success it was her only option at the moment, until she could think of something better.

Janeway's voice turned cold as ice.

"I see you and the late Gul Camet share your taste in women."

Kressik pulled his hand away as if he had been stung. He had heard about Gul Camet's death. It had shocked quite a few members of the Obsidian Order, and they were used to seeing and hearing their fare share of violence. Gul Camet's death had been utterly unexpected. Under questioning by the military his crew had reported that he had tracked down Janeway and held her in his quarters. Seemingly at his mercy she should have been an easy target for him, but somehow Camet had ended up brutally murdered in his bed, and Janeway had somehow gotten off the ship. It was as much a mystery to the crew of the Tokar Zebok as it was to Central Command and the Obsidian Order. And although Camet's crew had been questioned thoroughly, they didn't shed any light on the mystery.

Gul Kressik and Camet had never been close friends, but they had been acquainted and met on several occasions. It all started back in 2364 when Kressik had met Camet at Quarks Bar on Terok Nor. Over several bottles of Kanar Camet had told Kressik all about his vendetta against Kathryn Janeway without whom he should have been promoted to a higher post a long, long time ago.

When Janeway had still be an Ensign, Camet had taken her and her superior officer, a certain Admiral Paris, prisoner. Just like Kressik now Camet had very much anticipated the interrogation of Kathryn Janeway. He had made plans to spend at least one night with her before finally leaving her to her dyer fate. This turned out to be a mistake of epic proportions. Janeway had escaped taking the admiral with her and killing Camet's son by the by. In addition to his personal grief for the loss of his only son who was meant to follow in his father's footsteps and had shown great promise in the Obsidian Order, Camet had had a great deal of difficulty explaining the loss of his prisoners to his superiors. Eventually he had been suspended and furthermore demoted. It had taken Camet years to recover from the shame, and almost as long to get his rank back.

Kressik had no son within the Obsidian order or elsewhere, but somehow there seemed to be far too many parallels between him and Gul Camet. He too felt a strange attraction to this human female. He too wanted her for himself before he rid the galaxy of her for good. But the first time Camet had tried to do so he had lost his position, his rank, his honor and his son, and even his wife had left him, only to mention a few. The second time around he had lost the last thing he had left: his life. Was all this really just coincidence or was there something more to Janeway than the eye perceived?

However Kressik had never been a superstitious man. Camet had most likely been too sure of himself. He had been a fool. Kressik would be more careful, more professional, more cunning. Despite the fact that they had shared the same rank, Kressik had always thought of Camet as inferior.

Standing behind Janeway's armchair he said,

"Yes, I'm aware of the late Gul Camet's obsession with you, Captain. But I'm not a fool like he was."

Janeway took the glass of Kanar from the table and regarded the amber liquid playfully through the light. Casually she continued,

"Oh, Camet was no fool. But I'm afraid he didn't get to enjoy our last encounter as much as he had hoped."

A sly smile spread over Janeway's lips. He was giving her the creeps and she would be damned if she wasn't going to return the favor. She put down the glass and slowly turned towards the man behind her without getting out of her chair. She slowly looked him up and down, then stated,

"As a matter of fact he didn't survive our last encounter, Kressik. Do you think you will?"

It was the Cardassian's turn to feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

He was rescued by the sound of his communication console announcing an incoming message. Kressik handed Janeway his glass and excused himself. He sat down in front of the console and activated the screen.

"Good evening, Gul Kressik."

The face of a middle-aged Cardassian woman in official robes with Cardassian insignia appeared on the monitor. Her long black hair was elaborately styled on top of her head. Her features were hard, her posture iron. She radiated command.

"Archon, I am honored by your call. Have you had a pleasant day? What can I do for you?"

The women on the other side seemed impatient.

"Enough small talk, Kressik. I want to know how your interrogation with the Federation prisoner is proceeding. The trial has been set for three days from now."

Three days! Kressik had hoped to enjoy Janeway's company for a little longer. Maybe he could stall the Archon for a while, extent the interrogation period from three days to at least a week.

"Archon, three days is not much time, and the prisoner could provide us with tactical information on both the Maquis as well as the Federation. My preliminary research has shown that Janeway deserted Starfleet six months ago to join the Maquis. The knowledge she holds could prove invaluable to us. Maybe we could reschedule the trial for a late date, say a week from now?"

The Archon looked less than impressed with Kressik's suggestion. Her black eyes shown with fury.

"Impossible! The date has already been publicly announced. The trial will be in three days. I authorize you to use whatever force you deem necessary, but I need all the information by the time the trial begins. Her execution is scheduled for directly after the trial, which will ensure us a large audience throughout the event. Our people are eager to see the human infiltrator punished, Gul Kressik. Do not fail me, or you will regret it."

Kressik put on his most charming smile.

"Of course, Archon, I will do as you command, and I will not disappoint you."

The Archon sneered at the gul,

"See that you don't!"

The screen abruptly went black. Kressik took a deep breath. He would have to take his pleasure from his prisoner tonight. That would leave him with three full days of extracting information from her by force. It was a true shame that her beauty, as well as her mind which intrigued him, would be destroyed so soon. After he had used the device on her, only a shadow of her former self would remain, if that.

Kathryn had heard every word that had been exchanged. However she had not just idly sat around awaiting her captor's return. She had scanned the room with her eyes for anything that might be used as a weapon. She could find nothing. Silently she had stood up and walked about the small area around the coffee table. Kressik's back was turned towards her, so as long as she managed to remain totally silent she would not attract his attention. Slowly she approached the cabinet, which held Kressik's mini-bar. She pushed the button which gave access to the compartment he had taken bottle of Kanar from, but much to her disappointment it was empty. What had he done with the bottle of Kanar? Janeway spun around and sure enough there it was standing on the floor next to the coffee table, partly obscured by one of the metal legs. She picked it up and went back to sit in the armchair, carefully concealing the bottle under her tunic. Scarce seconds later the communication console went quiet and the Cardassian returned. Resignation was written in his features.

"I am sorry, my dear, but the authorities are asking me to speed matters up a little. I'm we'll have to skip dinner and get straight to the point. I had hoped we would have more time for this, but I suppose one night is better than nothing."

The tone of his voice had turned from resigned to menacing. Kathryn felt a cold shudder go through her, which unfortunately was not lost on Kressik for an evil smiled spread across his face.

"I see you are anticipating this event as much as I am, if in a different way. You never know, you might actually enjoy it, Kathryn."

Janeway remained frozen in her chair concentrating on the cold glass of the bottle against her skin. Her icy gaze was fixed on Kressik who approached like an animal stalking its prey. Kressik's eyes went up and down her body, undressing her in his mind.

"Damn, I should have ordered them to dress you in something more appealing than a prison uniform!" he cursed.

Janeway on the other hand was grateful for her concealing clothes. She recalled the rather exposing nightgown Camet had made her wear during their last encounter and thanked the stars for the design of this uniform. The material was rough and thick, and the clothes hung on her like a potato sack since they were several sizes too large. If it hadn't been for the drawstring in the trousers, they would have fallen off her. The tunic covered her arms more than amply. As a matter of fact she had had to roll up the sleeves as well as the trouser legs. Only the slightest hint of collarbone was exposed at the neckline of the top. The only thing that could possibly make her look appealing was her long auburn hair, which cascaded freely over her back and shoulders.

Camet had reached the back of her chair. A lock of hair had fallen into her face and his coarse Cardassian hand brushed it aside and tucked it behind her ear. From there his hand moved down her neck again until it reached the fabric of the tunic.

"Such soft skin against so coarse a fabric..." he mumbled.

Janeway still remained frozen and fought hard against the urge to wince. She barely dared to breathe. Camet gathered her hair into his hand and suddenly roughly pulled, causing her head to fall back. He forced his lips onto hers in a bruising perversion of a kiss, with one hand holding her hair while the other began to explore her neck, slowly moving lower. Kathryn's grip around the bottle strengthened. She tried to concentrate on her weapon rather than on the terrible taste of his tongue intruding into her mouth, but it was difficult. She felt sick and wanted nothing more than to push him of her with all her might. But she had to keep him going for just a little longer. Kathryn steeled herself and agonizingly slowly lifted the bottle in her hand. Steadily she raised her arm, higher and higher... Just as she was about to smash the bottle down onto the Cardassian's skull he broke the kiss as suddenly as he had initiated it.

He was getting frustrated with that damn uniform she was wearing. It was difficult to feel anything through the thick material. His head rose up and he beheld the bottle in her hand and realization hit him. A few seconds later and she would have knocked him out cold.

Kathryn's eyes were wide with shock. She had been so close! A few more seconds and she could have been free.

Kressik lunged over to capture her wrist and snatched the bottle from her grasp. He was furious, both with her for attempting such an attack and with himself for almost falling into her trap. He should have known that something was up when she didn't resist his kiss much. Angrily he walked off and threw the bottle into a trash disposal unit. It disappeared. In a flash Kressik returned.

He sneered at Janeway,

"Lets see what else you're hiding under there! Get undressed!"

Janeway inhaled slowly, and then looked him straight in the eyes.

"No," she said coldly.

Kressik came closer and dragged her out of the armchair by her shoulders. He planted firmly her on the floor right in front of him. For the first time she noticed quite how tall he was. He outsized her by about two heads. Her captor stood about half a meter in front of her and repeated menacingly,

"Get undressed!"

Janeway tried to resist the urge to swallow hard but failed. She only hoped that he had not noticed this sign of weakness in her. She was more than a little frightened now, but she would be damned if she let him see this.

With a steadiness she did not feel she replied again,

"No."

Kressik's hands grabbed the collar of her tunic and tore the fabric in half, exposing her chest to his gaze. The sudden violent movement made Janeway gasp, a reflex, which she instantly regretted for Kressik, grinned in response. Kathryn covered her chest with her arms and took a step back. Kressik followed. She took another step back and again he took one forward. She didn't dare to turn around to see where she was going. A feeling of panic that she couldn't fight anymore propelled her further and further backward. Her heart was beating wildly, her head was spinning. She could not think clearly. He kept stalking her. Then abruptly she came to a halt. Her back had made contact with a solid object. She turned her head a little and knew that she was doomed. He had backed her into a wall.

Kressik smiled triumphantly.

"It's over, Kathryn. I've won!"


	9. The Evil That Breeds Within Chapter 8

**The Evil That Breeds Within **

**Chapter 8 **

**_"The Search"_**

Voyager's bridge was suffused by the gloomy red glow of the red alert lights. In the dim illumination, Harry Kim frustratedly worked the controls of his console at the Operations Station, pushing at buttons with an ever-deepening frown. He had been scanning the planet for close to eight hours but failed to discover any signs of Captain Janeway. He had started off with a wide range scan encompassing all of Cardassia Prime and then had refined his search to the capital city. However, despite all his efforts the scanners had failed to pick up any human life signs. Kim concluded that the Cardassian military must have been concealing the Captain at a heavily shielded site. Since Voyager's state of the art sensor systems were capable of penetrating shielding up to level 10, he reasoned that Janeway could only be kept at a site with shielding exceeding level 10. Harry narrowed his search to scans for military facilities with level 10 or above shielding. Although the sensors wouldn't be able to penetrate such sites, they would be able to detect such locations. He was certain that there couldn't be many! High capacity shielding was difficult to maintain and hence only used to hide top-secret military installations and the like.

He rubbed his tired eyes. He had been staring at the monitors on his console continuously for eight hours and his vision was beginning to blur. The search for the Captain had proved a lot more difficult than he had expected. The Cardassians were no fools. They had acted very promptly in concealing any trace of their prized prisoner. Harry stifled a yawn and quietly reprimanded himself for it. There was no time for sleepiness; he had to find the Captain. God knew what the Cardassians were doing to her down there on the planet; he didn't dare to think about it. Time was of the essence, and they were fast running out of it! Of course there was one other possible explanation for why the scans had not found any human life signs... What if Janeway was already dead?

The sudden sound of a beacon from his console shook Kim out of his glum thoughts. There it was! Level 16 shielding! A structure close to the Central Command Building where Janeway had been captured. According to the sensors this was a huge complex. Only about ten percent of the structure was located on the surface, the remaining ninety percent being situated underground. There even seemed to be a tunnel linking the Central Command Building with this massive structure and all of it was heavily shielded. This had to be it!

Tuvok sat very straight in the Captain's chair, studying the data that had been found in Marlow's quarters. Earlier Tuvok had gone to join his security team in Marlow's quarters in search for any further tactical information that might aid their rescue attempt. However, they had found nothing that would help them get the Captain back. On the other hand, their search had confirmed what Tuvok had already suspected. Marlow and Admiral Nechayev were operatives of Section 31, a secretive covert operations unit of Starfleet Intelligence that claimed to search out and destroy extraordinary threats to the Federation, often by employing extralegal tactics. The origins of Section 31 went all the way back to the beginnings of the Federation and the organization had operated under such extreme secrecy that no one really knew who was running it, or what they were up to. Section 31 seemed to answer to no one.

Tuvok and his security team had located encrypted subspace transmission logs from Marlow addressed to Admiral Nechayev. Tuvok, who many years ago had lectured decryption tactics at Starfleet Academy, had managed to break the multi-faceted codes within the space of a few hours. The senior officers and a few of the leading Maquis were briefed on the findings vis-à-vis Ross Marlow and Admiral Nechayev. But there were still a lot of unanswered questions. For one, what was the real reason behind the mission Nechayev had sent Voyager on? If they had not been sent here to help the rebel leaders to create a new Cardassia, then why had their presence been required? Did Section 31 see the Cardassian underground movement as a threat to the Federation and if so why? Was Captain Janeway's capture by the Cardassian Military an accident or had Section 31 a hand in this, too? If it had been Section 31's intention that the Cardassians captured Janeway, then what was their reasoning behind it?

Tuvok's attempt at logic was interrupted by a sudden outburst of excitement from Ensign Harry Kim,

"I've got it!"

B'Elanna and Carey had perfected the shuttle's cloaking device and instructed both Paris and Chakotay on how to operate it and how to avoid obvious hazards, which might render the device ineffective.

Paris was now sitting at the helm, running final system checks, while Chakotay had taken the co-pilot seat. There was an uneasy silence between the men. Neither knew what to expect from the other. Chakotay thought Paris a mercenary, a traitor who was willing to sell himself to any party for the right price. Paris on the other hand felt deeply wronged by Chakotay. It hadn't been his fault that Starfleet had caught him during his first week in the Maquis, but the older man wouldn't listen. Despite his usual display of cocky behavior Tom Paris was a sensitive man, and Chakotay's mistrust deeply wounded him, although he would ever admit it.

The animosity that arose from these emotions mostly resulted in highly counter-productive behavior, something they could definitely do without for the duration of this mission. Too many lives were at stake. However, although they tried to see past their differences, they were at best tolerating each other's presence. Now they would have to work closely together to get their Captain back. It would have to do.

The goal to get Janeway back was the one thing that united Paris & Chakotay. To Tom Paris Captain Janeway was the only person who had ever given him a chance to prove himself. She had believed in him from the start, even when she got him out of the prison compound in New Zealand. Fully aware of his past, she had only judged him on what she saw, not on his record. This meant more to Tom than anything in the world.

Chakotay was motivated by something else. He had fallen in love with Janeway and although she had hurt him deeply by ignoring him for the past six months, he still had strong feelings for her. Something told him that she still had feelings for him too, however well she was hiding them. He would give his life to save her from the claws of the Cardassians!

The shuttle's ramp closed and Tom brought the engines online. According to Kim's scans, Janeway could only be held in the heavily shielded building situated in close proximity to the Central Command Building. Voyager's scanners had been unable to penetrate the shielding around the complex, however, if the circumference of the shielding was anything to go by, they were dealing with an enormous structure, most of which was apparently hidden underground. Looking for Janeway would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, however it was the only place where the Cardassians could have concealed the Captain from Voyager's sensors. Since the guards had escorted Janeway out of the Cardassian Museum of Art on foot, it was logical to assume that the place in which she was held captive was close by. Furthermore, since it was the only possible hiding place Harry had come up with it in his analysis of the planet, it was their only hope, so they might as well go for it.

How to get into the building once they had landed was another matter entirely, and Tom was almost grateful that this part of their away mission had been left to the Maquis leader. Chakotay hadn't discussed this part of the mission with him, probably because Tom wasn't going to accompany the Maquis captain into the structure anyway, but Tom suspected that Chakotay's distrust of him had also been a factor. Oh well, good luck to him!

"All systems check," Paris announced.

Chakotay activated the comm.

"Commander Tuvok, shuttlecraft 'Obscura' is ready to engage with your permission."

Tuvok's voice sounded calm through the speakers,

"Permission granted. I wish you success, Mr. Chakotay and Mr. Paris. Live long and prosper."

Now I'm really worried, Tom thought. The formal Vulcan 'good-bye' confirmed that this was indeed a suicide mission.... He shook the feeling of unease and concentrated on maneuvering the small craft out of the cargo bay doors. To the eye and to sensors the shuttle was invisible. Only the brief flash of the force field being penetrated, when the shuttle left the cargo bay for space, gave away its existence. Obscura's sensors, just like Voyager's scanners, had been modified so that they could still see Voyager despite the fact that the starship was now cloaked. Slowly the Obscura descended towards the planet. Soon they came to the network of mines that formed the Cardassian Planetary Defense Perimeter.

Although he knew that the defense perimeter could not possible detect the shuttle since it was cloaked, Chakotay felt his muscles tense at the sight of the mines, which outsized the small craft by a factor of 10. One of those things alone had the power to annihilate them in the blink of an eye. Tom cleverly maneuvered the small craft between the mines. However, he was going way too fast for Chakotay's taste, and Chakotay allowed himself to take a deep breath as Tom stated with obvious relief,

"Mine field cleared."

Next came the difficult descent through the planets atmosphere. Landing a craft on a planet was never easy, but in this case Tom had to maneuver the shuttle at a precise angle of 2.3 degrees in order to evade Cardassian ground scanners. Even though the shuttle itself was cloaked, the scanners would be able to detect the disturbance of gases in the atmosphere, caused by the penetration of a foreign object such as a shuttlecraft. However, at a precise angle of 2.3 degrees the Obscura would appear on scanners as nothing more than a small blip of space-drifting debris burning up in the planet's atmosphere, which was not a rare occurrence and would not alarm the Cardassian ground forces.

When they finally broke through the atmosphere a magnificent site greeted them. The sun was just about to set over the capital, leaving a beautiful amber glow on the golden, arched and intricately crafted rooftops, a testament to the once rich mineral resources of the planet. For the first time in his life Chakotay allowed himself to take a good look at his enemies' homeworld, the people who had annihilated his homeworld and robbed him of everyone he had cared for. Despite the hatred he felt for them, he had to admit that the amber glow made Cardassia Prime's capital look spectacularly appealing, indeed breathtakingly beautiful. A city of pure gold!

Tom whistled through his teeth,

"Now there's a site for sore eyes! I had no idea it would be this beautiful... Wonder what the Ferengi would do with this place if they had the chance to get close to it…"

"Just a shame about the people," Chakotay dampened his pilot's enthusiasm.

The shuttle descended lower and lower, skimming the tips of arched rooftops until they were approaching the landing site. This was a small courtyard in the grounds of the Cardassian Central Command building. Paris had to be a very skilled pilot to land the shuttle in such a confined space. Chakotay was quite a skilled pilot himself, but he doubted he could pull off this stunt. Paris held the small craft just above the center of the grassy courtyard, and then killed the engines. Slowly, seemingly an inch at a time, he used the shuttle's thrusters to lower it further and further to the ground. When the craft finally touched down on the grass the landing was practically soundless. Now came the tough bit. Since they didn't have personal cloaks and there hadn't been time for the EMH to perform surgical alterations, Chakotay would have to leave the shuttle and look for the Captain without being noticed by anyone, however there was a Cardassian patrol guarding the courtyard. Since the sun was already setting, Chakotay's only option was to wait for the cover of night. He only hoped the courtyard was not too well illuminated.

Kressik's hands roamed the bare skin of her torso as he used the bulk of his body to crush Kathryn further into the wall, which he had cunningly backed her into. When she tried to push him off her, no longer trying to cover her chest with her arms, he took both her wrists into his left hand and restrained them above her head. Now thoroughly exposed to his gaze, she made desperate attempts to kick him, but her legs were trapped between the wall and Kressik. He began to trail a brutal line of kisses from her neck to her collarbone. Kathryn's body writhed in revulsion, trying to break free so that she could defend herself. She couldn't allow him to take her. There had to be something she could do to get him off her… But there wasn't. His violent embraces moved further down her body towards her chest. Kathryn tried to control her emotional responses as best as she could, attempting to show as little as possible of her revulsion and fear. However, the closer Kressik's mouth got to her chest the more she writhed beneath him in a desperate effort to break free. Her heart was beating wildly and when she started shouting abuse at Kressik to discourage him, he silenced her by pressing his mouth against hers. She gagged as his tongue snaked its way into her mouth. Panic was beginning to take control of her. She couldn't form any coherent thoughts. She couldn't breathe. She was certain she was going to suffocate any moment and was no longer aware of her reactions. She didn't even notice the tears that had begun to streak down her cheeks. Was this how it was all going to end? Was she going to die in a Cardassian prison, humiliated, tortured and raped?

The sudden sound of the doorbell made Kressik jump and release her. With an angry grunt he let go of Kathryn's wrists, shoved her none too gently to the ground and spun around to face the door. Air! She hungrily sucked it into her lungs. Then Kathryn made a dash for the remnants of her tunic, which lay in shreds on the floor and covered herself. She was shaking uncontrollably but her mind was alert again. She began to scan the vicinity for something that might be used as a weapon the next time he attacked her.

"Come!" Kressik shouted furiously in the direction of the door to his quarters. A guard entered and shakily announced,

"Madam Archon is here to see the human prisoner, Sir."

Kressik face turned a very pale shade of gray. He approached the door in order to block the doorway so the Archon would not see Janeway, who was crouching on the floor of his living area in a state that left no doubt as to what had just happened here.

Kressik immediately turned on the charm and smiled,

"Madam Archon, I am honored by your visit. What can I do for you?"

The stern Cardassian woman gave him a condescending glance. She was not easily fooled.

"Where are your manners, Gul Kressik? Aren't you going to ask me to come in? Isn't it common courtesy to offer a guest at least a seat and some refreshments? What are you hiding in there?", she asked suspiciously, straining her neck to sneak a glance at his quarters. When Kressik did not move, she simply shoved him aside and entered, Kressik watching on with horror.

The Archon stopped dead in her tracks and beheld Janeway, who had now risen from her position on the ground. Her state of undress, tousled hair and the wild look in her eyes left her in no doubt as to what had just happened here. The Archon felt no pity for the human prisoner; however, she was deeply ashamed of Kressik, a Gul in the Cardassian military. A sense of honor was supposed to come with that title, however, in this case, and unfortunately Kressik was not the exception, lust, sadism, arrogance and a mistaken sense of self-importance were the more prominent characteristics. She had had a feeling that Kressik had been up to no good with the prisoner, which was exactly why she had taken it upon herself to pay him a personal visit so shortly after their last communication. She had intended to catch him unawares, and it appeared she had succeeded.

The Cardassian woman approached Janeway, who although clearly shaken by whatever had happened here a few minutes ago, was standing proudly, looking her straight in the eye. Janeway may have been physically overpowered, but her spirit was far from beaten, and although this human represented the enemy, the Archon admired that. She touched Janeway's camisole to examine the tears. Clearly Kressik had torn the garment off her.

"Did he succeed in his filthy intentions?", the Archon demanded coldly.

Janeway simply shook her head. She didn't trust her voice yet.

"Kressik, you are very lucky that I interrupted you. Had I found you had violated this prisoner, I would have seen you stripped of all rank and honors. As it is, I am officially reprimanding you for your dishonorable behavior. You will not come into personal contact with this prisoner again. You will donate one thousand lek to a charitable cause of my choice and I have a mind to have you demoted from first to second Order!"

Madam Archon was furious. Her Cardassian complexion had clearly taken on a shade of green, which was the Cardassian equivalent to flushing.

"Your behavior is outrageous. In order to guarantee that it will not happen again I am moving the trial of Kathryn Janeway forward. The trial will commence tomorrow. I will have the prisoner thoroughly examined beforehand. If I find that she has been indecently assaulted between now and tomorrow morning, I will have you arrested and charged with rape. Is that understood?"

Kressik couldn't believe what was happening. It was true. Janeway was jinxed. He was the third Cardassian Gul to have her in his captivity and he was the third to bear dyer consequences. One thousand lek was a lot of money; he could have bought a small two-person shuttle for that. He had the money, and it wouldn't exactly cripple him financially, but it would be felt.

The Archon had two guards take Janeway back to her cell, making certain they too understood not to touch her. Then she threw one more disgusted glare at Kressik and said,

"I had hoped to be mistaken in my suspicions, but I see that my instincts were correct. You disgust me, Gul Kressik."

She stormed out of the prison facility.

Outside the prison, in the courtyard, Chakotay and Paris had watched the Archon come and go, not knowing what post she held. They had observed the facility for almost two hours now, and there didn't seem to be a way into the place. All doors were guarded by at least two men on either side, access codes and retinal scans were required to open the doors, and a small group of eight soldiers paraded the courtyard every thirty minutes. The only reason for why they hadn't been spotted yet was because they had stayed put in the cloaked shuttle. They were never going to find the Captain this way. Paris was getting impatient. He wasn't one for long observations. This waiting around without doing anything was frustrating him. Chakotay, although better at concealing his feelings, felt the same, and Paris' obvious agitation was doing nothing to calm his nerves.

"Paris, you're driving me nuts! If you need something to do then why don't you scan Cardassian official broadcasts? Maybe they will shine some light onto this matter."

"That's the first decent suggestion you have made all day, Chakotay. Maybe they'll have something on the Captain's trial. Maybe they'll even announce the date."

It didn't take long for Paris to discover that Janeway was held on suspicion of espionage and her trial was due to start the next day, the obvious punishment for her crimes being execution. Chakotay knew a little more than Paris about Cardassian jurisdiction, and he knew that Janeway was as good as dead unless they found a way to rescue her. A plan was forming in his mind

"Paris, are they saying anything about where the trial will be held?"

"As far as I can tell it will be held in the Cardassian Palace of Justice, the seat of the High Court, which according to our maps is just around the corner from here."

Chakotay frowned. If it was that close, they might just escort Kathryn there by foot to put on a good show for the people. According to Paris the execution had already been scheduled for the night of the trial and was due to take place at the High Security Prison where she was being held now. That meant that the soldiers had to escort Janeway back from the High Court to the prison facility.

Chakotay said,

"Do we have any maps of the area directly surrounding the Palace of Justice?"

Paris rummaged through the map library on the shuttle's computer.

"Here we are, that's it," Paris exclaimed and displayed the map on the shuttle's main viewer.

Chakotay studied it pensively. They might just about be able to pull this off. There was a small courtyard between the gate and the building itself. Chakotay pointed to the small area and asked,

"Tom, do you think you could land the shuttle here without alarming anyone to our presence?"

Tom studied the small courtyard closely. The courtyard itself was actually larger than the spot were they had landed here. However, there were quite a few trees in the way, confining the landing to just over the shuttle's own size. It would be tricky, but it was possible.

"I think I could pull it off, but it isn't going to be easy."

Chakotay began to explain his plan.

Meanwhile Kathryn Janeway was lying on the bunk in her cell, pondering over the events of the evening. She had barely escaped with her skin intact and only because the Archon had come to her rescue. However, she had not felt any sympathy from the stern Cardassian woman. Her trial had been moved forward by two days, which gave her only this night to prepare for it. She vaguely recalled reading about the trial of Chief O'Brien of Deep Space Nine who had been sentenced to death. The one thing that she remembered was that the Chief had already been found guilty before the trial had commenced. It was the way the Cardassian Justice System worked. If you had been arrested for a crime you were thought to have committed, then you were no doubt guilty. She also recalled that O'Brien's trial had been broadcast on all Cardassian frequencies. No doubt her trial would also be a show trial with a lot of publicity around it, a point that might work in her favor. She knew that no matter what evidence she brought to light during the trial, she was already doomed. There was no such thing as 'innocent until proven guilty' here. She had no illusions that unless a miracle happened and Voyager could somehow get her out of this, she would be dead by the end of tomorrow. But then there was Marlow. He obviously had not been captured, and by the looks of it, neither had Paris and Chakotay. Had they managed to make it back to Voyager? Were they in the process of devising a rescue plan? She hoped so, for there was nothing she could do from here. She would have to rely entirely on her crew and Chakotay's Maquis, and this feeling of helplessness was driving her crazy.

Chakotay had rescued her from the Cardassians once before, and not so long ago. But she was not sure that he had the same level of incentive as he did six months ago. Back then she had been his prisoner, his responsibility. A lot had happened since then. They had been lovers for one night, and then she had cut all contact until this mission had once again forced them together. Their relationship was strained at best, and Chakotay obviously held a grudge against her now. Did he still care for her? She had hurt him deeply. Was he hurt enough to let her die?

Tuvok, her old Vulcan friend was also onboard, but she fully realized that he lacked the ability to lead the crew in the same way she would. His logic was sometimes misguided. Sometimes you just had to forget about the rules of logic, about protocol and Starfleet training. Sometimes, the only way out of a sticky situation was to punch your way through. She had every confidence in him to get her crew home safely, but she doubted that he would risk all of them to attempt a rescue. It was against all Vulcan logic. You did not sacrifice the many to rescue the few.

As for Ross Marlow, she certainly did not expect him to come to her rescue anytime soon. If anything he would be selling tickets to her execution.

So, her only hope was Chakotay. She didn't like the odds much and would have preferred to come up with a plan B, however Kathryn Janeway was out of options. There was nothing she could do. Exhaustion finally took over and she fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued by nightmares, which circled around Ross Marlow, Kressik, a vengeful Chakotay and visions of her own execution.

Marek had been up since the small hours. He had been at the other end of the City to procure tickets for the "event of the year", if not the decade. The trial of Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation. It had not been easy to get the tickets, but he, or rather Section 31, had connections in high places, moles in every department, including the High Court. In this case, the Section 31 agent who had arranged for the tickets was scheduled to be Kathryn Janeway's Nestor, her defense lawyer. His Cardassian cover name was Rughel. Just like Marlow he had been genetically altered to appear Cardassian. Rughel had been in his post for the past three years. He had killed the real Rughel and taken over his personality. Nestor Rughel had deliberately been chosen as a victim since he had few friends and no direct family. He had never been married and was childless. His parents had long been dead and he had no siblings. He was a loner. Hence it had been easy to take over his life without anyone noticing the difference.

The Nestor in the Cardassian Justice System was the defendant's advisor, however he was not allowed to address the Court. This was purely the privilege of the accused, and then only when called into the witness stand.

The only one who was allowed to address the Court was the Public Conservator who represented the State. It was his main task to make the trial as entertaining as possible. Hence he was supposed to make the crimes of the accused sound far more sinister than they had actually been. He was also to dwell on the worst possible punishment. In the case of Kathryn Janeway, Cardassia had brought out her finest. The Public Conservator was a popular choice. Kovat had more than thirty years experience in the role, and was well known for reducing the Accused to tears, which was of course considered hugely entertaining. He was also well known for his rather colorful descriptions of crimes and their respective punishments such as torture and execution.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun had risen over the Capital and people were already crowding in front of the public broadcasting screens, which were scattered throughout the city. Some had chosen to watch the trial from the comfort of their own home, but watching with a crowd was considered to be more fun.

Marlow had just finished his shower when Marek entered the small antiquarian bookstore.

"Hey Ross, guess what I've got!"

Meanwhile Kathryn Janeway had been given the opportunity to take a sonic shower, she had had some gray slime that qualified as breakfast and she had been given a clean and more formal indigo colored uniform to wear. The simple blue garment, although plainly tailored and made of a coarse fabric, actually suited her. It appeared that appearance was all-important at these trials.

She heard the heavy thump of he military boots long before the guards came to fetch her. Two guards escorted her out of the prison, followed by another eight who were to escort her from the prison to the High Court. The soldiers were there as much for her protection as for keeping her from escaping because both outside the prison and the Cardassian Palace of Justice huge crowds had gathered to watch the procession. Some were cheering, others shouting abuse as she passed them but it was clear that all of them wanted a piece of her. Kathryn held her head high. Her heart was beating wildly. She did not dare to hope for rescue, but in the back of her mind there was a small glimmer of hope that refused to be extinguished. If she were to plan a rescue, when and where would she make the attempt? Before the trial or after? Probably during the hours between the end of the trial and her execution, in the hope that no one would suspect anything too soon to cause them to detect Voyager. Was her ship even still in orbit of the planet?

Chakotay and Paris sat in the shuttle, watching as the procession left the prison for the High Court. She looked all right, however there was a haunted expression in her eyes that did not escape Chakotay. He fought the urge to run out to her right now and drag her into the shuttle, or to lower the cloak and simply beam her aboard. But it would be very foolhardy to do so. Of course he could have just alerted Tuvok and asked him to beam the Captain aboard, but that would have given away Voyager's position in orbit of the planet since transporter beams could be recorded and traced by sensors. He simply had to wait until the time had come. It would be soon enough.

As soon as the procession had left the trial, Paris opened the main Cardassian State channel and put it on screen. There they watched the small procession as they walked the few hundred yards from the prison to the High Court to the sound of hundreds of excited Cardassians cheering. Then the small group disappeared behind the large metal doors of the High Court building. This was their cue. The cloaked shuttle slowly took off and made its way to the small courtyard in front of the High Court, which had been sealed off so that the general public could not crowd here. Then Paris cut the engines and slowly landed the shuttle using the almost soundless thrusters to maneuver it between the trees. It was a precision act and with the huge crowds cheering outside the building the small hiss of the thrusters got drowned out. Now they had to play the waiting game one last time.

Meanwhile on board Voyager a similar scene was set. On the bridge, Tuvok had ordered the trial to be put on the main viewer, and all around the ship people were watching the proceedings. Chakotay and Paris had not reported in since they had left Voyager but that had been part of the plan. Communications were only to be used in an absolute emergency. Meanwhile all anyone aboard Voyager could do was watch the proceedings in the High Court.

"At least it doesn't look like they used torture on her," Ensign Kim said.

"Ensign, if you were going to broadcast a show trial, would you leave marks on the accused? To my best knowledge of the Cardassian Justice System they have tortured her for information, but have erased any evidence before the start of the trial. However, it is fair to say that the Captain now appears in good health," Tuvok replied.

It grew very quiet on the bridge as everyone's thoughts went to what Captain Janeway had been put through during her stay in the prison.

The Archon entered the Court to the cheering of several hundred people in the audience. There had never been this much noise in her Courtroom. The cheers were deafening. She sat down in her chair behind her elevated desk and took the hammer into her hand, lowering it three times.

"Silence! The will be no unrest in this Court!" she barked.

The mob immediately grew quiet.

"Let the Accused rise," an orderly announced.

Nestor Rughel gave Kathryn a push, and stole a glance at a particular part of the audience. There, in the last row near the exit were Marek and Marlow.

Reluctantly Kathryn rose from her chair and stared defiantly at the Cardassian woman who held her fate in her hands.

"Do you plead guilty to your crimes?" the Archon demanded.

"And what crimes are these? How can I plead guilty if I don't even know what it is I stand accused of?"

The crowd grew wild, shouting abuse at Janeway.

"I will have silence in this Court!" the Archon ordered.

Immediately the audience grew quiet again.

"Kathryn Janeway, you are accused of espionage, of terrorist actions against Cardassian colonies in the DMZ and in particular of the murder of Gul Camet aboard the Tokar Zebok six months ago. I ask you again, how do you plead?"

Janeway steeled herself. There was no point in defending herself, she knew that, but she would be damned if she was going to take these accusations just like that.

"I have never spied on the Cardassian people, I have not committed any terrorist actions in the DMZ and as for Gul Camet, I killed him in self-defense. I plead not guilty."

Again the crowd grew wild.

"I will have the audience quiet or I will this room cleared!" the Archon ordered.

Silence fell.

"Make a record that the Accused is unrepentant and denies her crimes. Public Conservator Kovat, please make your case."

A Cardassian man, obviously in the final years of his office, stood up and walked into the center of the courtroom so that the audience could get a good look at him. He was obviously in his element and about to put on a good show.

"Madam Archon, it is obvious that Kathryn Janeway is a spy, what other business could a Federation Captain possibly have on Cardassia, and in disguise, no less. She did not announce her presence to us as required by the agreement we have with the Federation. She entered our homeworld illegally, we do not know how, but it is assumed that she was smuggled in on a merchant vessel. She was in the disguise of a Delphidian monk. Now, why would someone who has nothing to hide go through so much trouble? Why would they want to deceive us in such a manner, stoop to such subterfuge?"

"As for the second accusation of being a terrorist, it is well documented in her official Starfleet record, yes, we indeed have confirmation from her own people, that she deserted Starfleet six months ago to join the Maquis in the Demilitarized Zone. We know from the late Gul Camet's crew that he, this great hero of the Cardassian Empire who had proved himself as a loyal servant to his people, who was a family man, whose widow and child have waited eagerly for this day, managed to capture the Accused on an Asteroid which turned out to be a secret Maquis hideout in the DMZ. My honored friend Camet had called her into his quarters in order to interrogate her, and roughly an hour later he was found dead in his bed, brutally stabbed, murdered, lying in a puddle of his own blood, with no sign of Kathryn Janeway. She herself admits to killing him, but it was not self-defense as she says. If a terrorist, a ruthless criminal who has killed many times before, kills her captor in cold blood, I don't call it self-defense, I call it cold-blooded murder.

The crowd began to cheer again, however one stern glare from the Archon in the direction of the audience was enough to silence them. She didn't even have to use the hammer.

"Do you have witnesses to call, Conservator Kovat?"

"Madam Archon, I believe under the circumstances witnesses are not necessary. The facts speak for themselves. I don't believe it is necessary to artificially drag this trial out."

Madam Archon was pleased to hear it. This was exactly how Cardassian justice was supposed to work. The guilt of the Accused should be easily established so that justice could take its course as promptly and expediently as possible.

"Thank you, Conservator, you may sit down. Kathryn Janeway, I will give you two minutes to consult with your Nestor and then I will ask you to come into the witness stand," the Archon stated.

Nestor Rughel cleared his voice. Kathryn Janeway turned to look at her so called 'defense lawyer' and gave him a disapproving look.

"Captain Janeway, I strongly advise you to plead guilty and regret your crimes in public. When you walk into the witness stand you should tell them how much you regret killing Camet, apologize to his family..."

Janeway cut him off mid-sentence.

"Spare me your advice, Sir. I will tell the truth and if that doesn't fit into this perversion of justice, then that is your problem."

The Nestor protested,

"But it will shine a bad light on me if you don't do as I tell you. I am supposed to advise you as to how to behave in this Court. You cannot simply ignore my advice!"

A self-satisfied grin spread slowly over her face,

"My dear Sir, if you don't like it, then simply make a statement that you resign as my Nestor. You can blame it all on me."

Rughel flushed a deep red with the rising anger, which she somehow found odd in a Cardassian. The Archon the night before had flushed a shade of green with fury. Maybe he had a medical condition.

"Are you feeling quite well, Sir," she enquired carefully.

"I will be glad to be rid of you tonight," the Nestor hissed, but there was something in his inflection that was more human than Cardassian. Maybe the pressure was finally getting to her....

"Captain Janeway, your consultation time is over. Please step into the witness stand."

Kathryn Janeway rose from her seat and preceded to the witness stand, which was to the right of the Archon, right between the Cardassian judge and the audience.

"Kathryn Janeway, do you plead guilty and do you regret your crimes?"

Janeway steeled herself one last time. It didn't really matter what she said anyway, the result would be the same. Her execution was scheduled for tonight.

"I plead not guilty to the crimes I am accused of but I would like to point out that Camet was not in the least the hero the Conservator made him out to be. As far as I know he and his wife had long been estranged, he was once stripped of all his honors roughly fifteen years ago, and he was known in the entire quadrant as a bloodthirsty sadistic animal. If you will have me executed for crimes I have not committed then at least let this be said."

The crowd roared with fury. The Archon lowered her hammer with such force that her desk almost shattered.

"I will have the last words of the Accused erased from the records. Kathryn Janeway, I declare you to be a spy, a terrorist and a murderer. I sentence you to death by execution. Your sentence will be carried out tonight at 20:00 hours and will be broadcast live over all Cardassian channels."

The crowd cheered. This time the Archon didn't stop them. Janeway watched the scene from the witness stand. It was as if she were dreaming. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and her vision blurred slightly. She saw her Nestor clapping applause to the sentence and noticed that he seemed to be greeting someone in the audience. Her gaze followed his. There were two men, one of them an elderly Cardassian in ordinary clothes. The face of the other was hidden under a dark hood, but there was something about him that seemed familiar. Was this her rescue party? No, somehow the set of the man's shoulder s didn't comfort her at all. If anything it aroused fear and agitation in her. Then the man turned slightly to the side giving her a brief glimpse of his profile. He seemed Cardassian, but his nose, his mouth, the set of his eyes, were familiar. And then it came to her. She was looking at Ross Marlow - in disguise. Had he come to get her out of here? She could not believe he would ever do anything to help her. But what other business could he possibly have here?

Suddenly Marlow's eyes locked with hers, and then she knew that he had come to gloat rather than to help her. He had the most evil grin on his features and his eyes held all the hatred of the world. No, he had come to gloat over her. Just then the guards came to escort her back to the prison. She was glad to get out of the courtroom, away from Marlow. It was as if he had planned her demise right from the start. The man was sick! Or was he? Was Nechayev in with this? Had this all been part of their master plan? She wouldn't put it past them.

The huge metal doors opened and Janeway exited the building flanked by four guards only. The other six were waiting at the gate, at the other end of the small courtyard. The audience was only a few seconds behind her, and the guards dragged her non-too gently out of the building in order to prevent a confrontation with the members of the audience. But the audience had other ideas. They ran to catch up with her so that they could shout abuse to her face. Damn sloppy, she thought. They should have planned it so the audience only followed after they had delivered her back to the prison. After all, it was only going to take them a couple of minutes. They were about in the center of the courtyard when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, appeared Chakotay and Paris. Each of them fired at two of the guards who fell to the ground. The mob recoiled in horror. Chakotay ran towards Janeway and grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on, we don't have much time!"

Meanwhile the six guards at the gate had noticed that something was amiss, and they quickly approached. Rughel, Marlow and the elderly Cardassian man he had been with suddenly appeared behind her and Marlow aimed a Cardassian disruptor at her. Kathryn ducked and the blast hid a tree, completely vaporizing it within split seconds. He wasn't kidding.

Suddenly Marlow fell over, apparently stunned. Had Paris or Chakotay aimed at him? But then she saw a man in the mob with a disruptor in his hand, which was now aimed at Marlow's companion. She recognized the man with the weapon as non-other then Dunar, the leader of the Cardassian underground movement they were supposed to have rendezvoused with the day before. Suddenly all hell broke lose as several members of the audience pulled their weapons and aimed at the six guards who were approaching from the gate. The Cardassian resistance had come to their help.

Then a woman stormed towards Janeway, a knife pulled, clearly intending to stab the Captain.

Dunar saw Zarel running like a crazed wild animal, a blade in her hand. He didn't have to think. He set his disruptor to kill and aimed at her. Surprised, the woman fell to the ground, pain written on her features.

"No...." she stammered.

Janeway stared at Dunar.

"Why did you do that? You could have just stunned her!"

"She is the traitor. She has killed more members of the resistance then I would dare to count!"

Chakotay quickly pushed Janeway in the direction of the cloaked shuttle.

"We don't have time for this. Let's go!"

Janeway stared at the fallen body of the young Cardassian woman at her feet.

"Wait, I want to know why she tried to kill me!"

"We don't have time for that now, Kathryn," Chakotay urged.

"Then lets take her with us! Mr. Paris, help her into the shuttle. Dunar, get your people in there, too. How many are there?"

Dunar confirmed that there were only about ten of them, the others were hiding in the sewers on the outskirts of the city.

Within seconds they were all aboard the invisible shuttlecraft and Paris started the engines. A minute later they emerged from the planet's atmosphere and made their way towards the rendezvous coordinates where Voyager was waiting for them.

Janeway knelt next to the young Cardassian woman, stroking strains of damp hair out of her face. Such a waste of a young life.

"Why?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking a little.

The young woman was in a lot of pain. Dunar's disruptor shot had hit her in the chest. The area was black with burned skin and fabric; she had trouble breathing and was losing a lot of blood. Janeway took the bottom of her blue prison tunic and ribbed a stripe off it. Then she proceeded to soak up some of the green blood with it.

"Murderer!" Zarel rasped through clenched teeth.

Janeway shook her head.

"I've never murdered anyone."

"Liar!" Zarel replied.

"You killed my father," she had to stop for a few seconds, her body being rocked by spasms of sharp pain.

"Gul Camet!", she continued.

Realization began to hit Janeway,

"You are Gul Camet's daughter? You must believe me when I tell you that I acted in self-defense...."

But it was too late. Zarel had taken and expelled her last breath.

Janeway felt tears begin to well in her eyes. Chakotay knelt next to her and said,

"Come on, you've been through hell the last few days, let me take a look at you."

When she looked at him he saw the tears that were ready to spill there, but they didn't. She took his hand and he helped her up.

"Thank you, Chakotay." The shaking of her voice did not go unnoticed but the Captain's mask was already moving back into place. She turned away from him and took a seat next to Tom Paris at the helm.

Chakotay shrugged. There would be plenty of time to talk once they were back on Voyager.

The shuttle docked on the cloaked Voyager without further incident and Janeway with Chakotay and Paris in tow walked onto the bridge, whilst Dunar and his people were shown to Cargo Bay II, which would have to double as temporary quarters for the renegades.

On the Bridge everyone stood to welcome the Captain back and Harry Kim announced "Captain on the Bridge!". The Ensign was relieved to have his Captain back on Voyager. Janeway was still wearing the Cardassian prison uniform but it didn't stand out since no one else on Voyager was in Starfleet uniform either. Even Kim could see though that the Captain was clearly shaken from her experiences planet-side, although she was doing a damn good job at hiding it.

"Tom, take the helm! Lets get the hell out of here!", Janeway ordered.

"Captain, there is a matter we need to discuss before we choose our next destination", Tuvok said.

Janeway looked a tad surprised, but she knew her Vulcan Security Officer better than to question him in this case.

"Alright, Mr. Tuvok, in my Ready Room!"

"Captain, with all due respect, this concerns my people, too."

Chakotay was of course correct, but Voyager was still her ship and ultimately this would be her decision. But he had a point, half of the crew were actually Maquis, and he, as their leader, should be involved in the decision making process. Ordinarily she probably would automatically have invited him to join her and Tuvok, but under the circumstances she was not particularly comfortable with being in the same room with him, and she wasn't sure they could discuss things totally dispassionately, especially now that her nerves were still rather wound tight due to her experiences on Cardassia Prime.

"Of course, Mr. Chakotay, please join us.", she said quickly.

As soon as the door closed behind them Janeway took a seat behind her desk and the two men sat in the chairs opposite her. Tuvok explained what he and the crew had discovered in the Captain's absence as to Marlow's and Nechayev's involvement with Section 31. No one doubted that Section 31 had rigged this mission, so that even if it failed, their involvement would never be discovered. Tuvok mentioned the sabotaged transporter system, which had obviously been devised to terminate any possible witnesses, in other words Marlow had planned to kill the entire away team in what would look like a tragic transporter accident, bar himself of course. According to the data that Tuvok had discovered in Marlow's cabin, Section 31 had planned to eventually terminate the entire crew, Starfleet and Maquis alike. And Starfleet would of course have played right into their hands. Suspecting the crew and their captain of being Maquis renegades, who had stolen a proto-type ship from the Federation, Nechayev would eventually have ordered the ship disabled, and of course there would have been another tragic incident whereby Voyager would of course not only have been disabled, but destroyed, possibly in Cardassian/Federation crossfire.

Janeway's head was spinning. She could no longer sit still in her chair. She felt the need to move - her best thinking was done pacing in her Ready Room, usually coming to a halt in front of the viewport and gazing out into the vastness of space. So she got up and did just that.

"As I understand the situation then, we have nowhere to run, or our routes of escape are, to say the least, extremely limited. Although the Cardassians haven't detected us yet they just saw as disappear into plain air and it won't take them long to put two and two together and figure out that Voyager is cloaked. As a matter of fact they were extremely dubious when I told them I had arrived on the planet by way of a cargo vessel. So while we have been discussing the situation they have no doubt started scanning the perimeter for cloaked ships. However, we can't head back home since the Federation is not aware that we are just pretending to be a ship of Maquis renegades and Starfleet defectors. We would never get past Deep Space Nine if we attempted to return home. We can't go back home, we can't go back to Cardassia Prime, the Badlands are probably the first place they would start looking for us, so that leaves us with only one place to go that I can think of, and that would probably be suicide, too.

"May I ask what place were you thinking of, Captain?", Tuvok interrupted.

Janeway frowned, staring into the stars as if they might hold the solution to all her problems. Then she turned towards the two men in her company.

"The Neutral Zone." She let the words hang in the air for a few seconds. Both Tuvok and Chakotay had the same look of surprise and disbelief written on their faces, it was almost comical to see two men who were so different with such similar expressions.

"I do realize that it sounds preposterous at first but on second thoughts it may just work out. If the Tal Shiar have done their job, and I don't doubt for a moment that they have, then the Romulans must be aware that Voyager has been taken over by Maquis renegades and a group of ex-Starfleet personnel who have defected to the other side. Of course Starfleet can't enter the Neutral Zone but Voyager is officially no longer a Starfleet vessel and the Romulans may be willing to at least tolerate us in their territory."

Tuvok interrupted,

"Captain, the Romulans would no doubt welcome the opportunity to get their hands on a Starfleet prototype vessel, have you considered what repercussions there might be for the Federation if the Tal Shiar get their hands onto Federation technology, not to mention Voyager's databanks?"

Chakotay intervened at this stage,

"I would have to agree with Mr. Tuvok on this point. I certainly don't have any affiliation with Starfleet or the Federation but I would hate to think that I was partly responsible for a Romulan invasion of the Alpha Quadrant."

Janeway shook her head,

"Gentlemen, if it comes to that I won't hesitate to destroy Voyager, but as I see it, this is the only route of escape open to us at the moment and I'll be damned if I won't at least give it a shot. Consider the options. Number one, we all end up in the hands of the Cardassians, and I'll tell you from experience that this is not an option I favor, but to cut a long story short we all end up dead and the Cardassians get their hands onto Federation technology. Number two, we go crawling back to the Federation and let Nechayev take us out before we even reach DS9. In both cases we end up dead no matter what. Option three, however; we set a course for the Neutral Zone. Neither Federation nor Cardassian ships will dare follow us in there. We may be able to hide in the Neutral Zone until we come up with a better plan, we may even be able to hide for long enough to have Nechayev and the Cardassians give up on us. Of course we might alert the Romulans, who we don't know much about, and we may end up blowing up the ship anyway, but it's at least worth a try, don't you agree?"

Both men looked pensive, then Chakotay said,

"Kathryn, I think you may have found the only way out of this mess!"

"I don't quite share Mr. Chakotay's enthusiasm for your plan, Captain, however, it does seem to be the only viable option at this time." Tuvok admitted.

"Gentlemen, I believe time is of the essence here, so lets go and do it!"

Tuvok took his position behind the tactical station and Chakotay sat in the chair to the right of the Captain. The atmosphere on the Bridge was tingling with tension. The crew knew that something had obviously gone wrong, a few of them even knew that Marlow belonged to a rogue organization called Section 31 although not many knew what this entailed or who Section 31 were. The senior officers on the Bridge however were fully briefed on the current situation and had all pretty much worked out that there was no place left to run. They now looked towards the Captain as their last glimmer of hope, or in the Maquis crew's case, with great skepticisms.

"People, I would have liked to call a Senior Staff Meeting but there isn't any time for formalities right now. I have discussed our situation with Commander Tuvok and Mr. Chakotay and we have come to an agreement. Mr. Paris, I want you to plot a course for the Neutral Zone, avoiding all Federation and Cardassian posts. Voyager will remain cloaked for the time being, but I am aware that the cloaking device will be a great drain on our resources, and the cloaking device is unreliable to say the least, so Tom, whatever course you plot, make sure it's discrete and fast. Warp 9!"

A gasp went around the Bridge. The Neutral Zone. It was the stuff that nightmares were made of. No one really knew very much about the Romulans except for the fact that they were an extremely dangerous, not to be trusted, calculating and violent society with whom the Federation had at best a situation of armistice and at worst of war. The Romulans were possibly the Federation's most feared enemy aside from the Borg. Highly intelligent with a fleet that could easily rival the Federation's, they were best left alone. The Neutral Zone was in fact a region of space situated right between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire and neither force's ships were supposed to cross it, as a matter of fact breaking this rule was tantamount to a declaration of war. Although Voyager was now officially no longer a Federation vessel, it still bore the Starfleet registration number and it still carried on board species that were indigenous to the Federation. The Romulans were suspicious to the extreme of any outsiders, especially the Federation. The only halfway civil relationship had been between the Romulans and the Klingons, since the Romulans, due to their isolation, relied on the Klingons for the trade of weapons and other equipment. In return the Romulans had given the Klingons their cloaking devices, which was why the ships of both societies became known as Birds of Prey and both had cloaking devices, but the links between the two empires had long been broken and the one thing Voyager did not have enough of was Klingons. A half-Klingon, half human just wouldn't be the same. Also the Romulan Star Empire had been in self-imposed isolation for decades now, and it was certainly possible that they would simply shoot anything that entered the Neutral Zone without asking questions. Risky just wasn't quite the word for it, but this course was Voyager's only option.

**Please review! I'd like to know what you think!**

**Chapter 9 _"Enemy of my Enemy"_ is in the works!**


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